^jA^f^/y t" •cfy Cj*^ 



^- <^-^' 






v-^' 



'0^^- 






-^^0^ 



-■'- ^v 



0-' 






'^^.'*»To'\^^' 



.s'^V 






% 









^-..^* 


V^ "^ » « ' V 







'■^•' ^^' 



J- 3 



■i.*^ 



li 



V.- 






.*■ 



V^ 



•^o 



\.^^ 
/% 












•i 






r^- 






.0 w 



V 






-^' 



^^■^ 






^^d^ 



•^0' 



^•"-^ 



.<^.;^ 



.fe' 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



"... It is the eternal struggle between these two prin- 
ciples — right and wrong — throughout the world. They 
are the two principles that have stood face to face from 
the beginning of time, and will ever continue to struggle. 
The one is the common right of humanity, and the other 
the divine right of kings. ..." 




AHHAIFAiM I.lMdI.N, W 1 1 K N N<):M r N ATKI) lOH I'HKSIDENT, 
MAY, 18(i0 



THE BOOK OF 
LINCOLN 



COMPILED BY 

MARY WRIGHT-DAVIS 



ILLUSTRATED 




NEW XBJr YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



^w 9&" 



Copyright, 1919, 
By 0$orge H. Doran Covipany 



Printed in the United States of America 
JAN 27 1919 

©CI.Ar)l2167 



TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER 

WILLIAM MAITLAND WRIGHT 

14TH MASSACHUSETTS VOLUNTEERS 

1842 (1861-65) 1906 



*'When they are deady we heap the laurels high 
Above them, where indifferent they lie — " 



FOREWORD 



LEADERS OF MEN 



When they are dead, we heap the laurels high 
Above them, luhere indifferent they lie; 

We join their deeds to unaccustomed -praise 
And crown with garlands of immortal hays 
Whom, living, we hut thought to crucify. 

As mountains seem less glorious, viewed too nigh. 
So often do the great whom we decry 
Gigantic loom to our astonished gaze. 
When they are dead. 

For, shamed by largeness, littlenesses die; 
And, partisan and narrow hates put by. 

We shrine our heroes for the future days. 

And to atone our ignorant delays 
With fond and emulous devotion try. 
When they are dead! 

Floeence Eaele Coates. 



[vii] 



PREFACE 

THE unceasing fascination which the story of Lincoln 
holds for writers finds satisfying explanation in the 
following epitome — itself a poem — by Brand Whitlock, 
from his biography of Abraham Lincoln : 

"The story of Lincoln, perfect in its unities, appealing 
to the imagination like some old tragedy, has been told 
over and over, and will be told over and over again. The 
log cabin where he was born, the axe he swung in the 
backwoods, the long sweep to which he bent on the flat- 
boat in the river, the pine knot at midnight, — these are 
the rough symbols of the forces by which he made his own 
slow way. Surveyor and legislator, country lawyer riding 
the circuit, politician on the stump and in Congress, the 
unwearied rival of Douglas, finally, as the lucky choice 
of a new party, the President, — the story is wholly typical 
of these States in that earlier epoch when the like was pos- 
sible to any boy. But the story does not end here. He is 
in the "White House at last, but in the hour when realised 
ambitions turn to ashes ; the nation is divided, a crisis 
confronts the land, and menaces the old cause of liberty. 
We see him become the wise leader of that old cause, the 
sad, gentle captain of a mighty war, the liberator of a 
whole race, and not only the saviour of a republic, but the 

[ix] 



PREFACE 



creator of a nation ; and then, in the very hour of triumph, 
— the tragedy for which destiny plainly marked him. 
Rightly told, the story is the epic of America." 

It seems fitting, in this memorial volume, to include a 
few of Abraham Lincoln's own utterances which express 
his noble personality as other words, however felicitous, 
can hardly hope to do. 

The Chronology will refresh the memory as to the se- 
quence of events in this most eventful life. 

The greater number of the poems are here collected for 
the first time. ' The others are found, very properly, in 
every Lincoln anthology. 

For kindnesses received from publishers, authors, and 
others, in the making of this book, the compiler is sin- 
cerely grateful. 

Maey Weight-Davis. 



M 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Foreword vii 

Preface ix 

The Lincoln Genealogy and Family Tree ... 17 

Chronology of the Life of Lincoln 25 

Lincoln Papers 31 

Abraham Lincoln's Place in History .... 63 
Lincoln in Verse 

I The Source of Lincoln 69 

II The Mother of Lincoln 79 

III To President Lincoln 83 

IV The First American 89 

V Gettysburg Ode 125 

VI Lincoln Mourned 137 

VII Lincoln's Grave ....... 203 

VIII Lincoln in Memorial 221 

IX The Living Lincoln 251 

X Lincoln's Centenary and Other Birth- 
days 275 

XI Miscellanies 325 

XII Washington and Lincoln 361 

Afterword 365 

[xil 



/ 

CONTENTS ^ 



PAGE 

Acknowledgments 369 

Bibliography 375 

Index of Authors 387 

Index of Titles 390 

Index of First Lines 395 



[xii] 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Abraham Lincoln, 1860 Frontispiece 

PAGE 

First Reading of the Emancipation Proclamation 52 \ 

Seated Statue of Lincoln (Weinman) .... 64 • 

President Lincoln and His Secretaries ... 86' 

Standing Statue of Lincoln (Weinman) ... 92 

Standing Statue of Lincoln (French) .... 128 

Standing Statue of Lincoln (O'Connor) . . . 206 

Standing Statue of Lincoln (Saint-Gaudens) . . 222 

Bronze Medal of Lincoln (Brenner) .... 228 

The Life-Mask of Lincoln (Volk) 232 

The Emancipation Group (Ball) 234 

Seated Statue of Lincoln (Borglum) .... 238 

The Hands of Lincoln (Volk) 244 • 

Standing Statue of Lincoln (Barnard) .... 248 ' 

The Potomac Lincoln Memorial Hall (Bacon) 254 ^ 

Head of Lincoln in Marble (Borglum) .... 260 

Head of Lincoln in Plaster (Barnard) .... 278 
The Hodgensville Lincoln Memorial Building 

(Interior And Exterior) 290 

The Lincoln Home at Springfield 298 

The Lincoln Spring (Hodgensville) 320 

[xiii] 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



FADE 

Abraham Lincoln, 1864 326 

Abraham Lincoln and His Son Thomas ("Tad") . 350 

Lincoln and His Generals 354 

Thb House Where Lincoln Died 366 



The sources of ihe illustrations, not elsewhere given, are as fol- 
lows: 

The Freruli, the Saint-Uaudt'iis, and the Weinman statues, from 
the studio of Mr. deW. C. Ward, Xew York. The Hodgensville Lin- 
coln Meuiorial Building, the Lincoln Cabin, and the Lincoln Spring, 
from the Lincoln Memorial Association, through the courtesy of 
Mr. F. D. Casey, Art Editor of Collier's. The Borglum statue 
(alone), the Emancipation Group, the First Reading of the Eman- 
cipation Proclamation, the Potomac Lincoln Memorial Building, and 
the House Wliere Lincoln Died, from the studio of Messrs. Leet 
Brothers, Washington. The Borglum Head of Lincoln, through the 
courtesy of Mr. Charles E. Fairman, Washington. The Barnard 
statue, from Mr. J. S. Banford, Cincinnati. The O'Connor statue, 
through the courtesy of the sculptor, Mr. Andrew O'Connor, Paxton, 
Mass. The Brenner medal, from the studio of ^Ir. A. B. Bogart, 
New York. The others are from the famous '"Brady Collection" 
J10W owned by Mr. L. C. Handy, Washington, 

[xiv] 



THE LINCOLN GENEALOGY AND 
FAMILY TREE 



THE 

BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN GENEALOGY AND THE FAMILY 

TREE 

IT has been the general belief, a belief which was 
shared even b^^ the illustrious President himself, 
that Abraham Lincoln's remote ancestry, as well as his 
immediate parentage, was of the humblest; that the Lin- 
coln Family were so low born as to make it a futile task 
to endeavour to penetrate the obscurity from which they 
sprung, and that the commanding figure of Abraham Lin- 
coln was a mere fortuitous circumstance, a "sport" of na- 
ture, rather than the result of centuries of inbred and in- 
herited qualities derived from worthy forefathers. 

In view of the indisputable facts of the poverty of his 
parents and his own consequent early struggle against 
every disadvantage, this was not an unnatural conclusion 
to be reached by many of the ephemeral and superficial 
writers who first dealt with his biography. Their hasty 
summaries were buttressed and built upon by the perfervid 
imaginations of penny-a-liners, whose sole object seems 
to have been to magnify the greatness of the man by de- 
crying his origin, until their fables were impressed as 

[17] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN \ 



facts upon the minds of the majority of even the more in- 
telligent people of the country. 

With the natural tendency of popular biographers, 
writing to please the proletariat, all stress has been laid 
on the poverty and ignorance of Lincoln's parents ; and out 
of this has grown the vulgar and scandalous conception 
that Thomas Lincoln could not have been the father of so 
great a son; and this was carried so far, bitter political 
enemies having joined forces with his illogical partisans,^ 
as to have denied even to the gentle and lovable mother 
who bore him, and of whom he always spoke with such 
deep reverence and affection,^ the very right to the name 
by which she was known.* 

In spite of this general acceptance of pauper progeni- 
tors, there were, even during the President's lifetime, some 
suspicions of the truth ; and a derivation from the sturdy 
stock of the Lincolns of Hingham, Mass., was suggested 

' "I condemn the man [Herndon] for what he has said about her" 
(Letter of J. F. Speed to Mrs. C. H. Hitchcock, 8 February, 1805.) 
"If Lincoln ever told such a story to Herndon — which may be con- 
fidently disbelieved — he was mistaken, and must have been misled 
by some evil whisper unhappily brought to his ears." ("The Mother 
of Lincoln," by H. M. .Tonkins, Pcnn. Hist. Mag., vol. xxiv, p. 130.) 

'Holland's Life of Lincoln, p. 23. 

•This myth, at first not admitted to print, existed orally and 
seems to have crawled into the light of day in the maliciously men- 
dacious statement of Herndon that Lincoln himself had so informed 
him (Life of Lincoln, vol. i, p. 3) ; the fabrication of an embittered 
office-seeker whose ambition outran his ability, and whose falsehood 
has now been made plain by recently discovered proofs which have 
swept away all possible doubts. 

[18] 




Fold-out 
Placeholder 



This fold-out is being digitized, and will be inserted at a 

future date. 




i^ ^ 



Fold-out 
Placeholder 



rhis fold-out is being digitized, and will be inserted at a 

future date. 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



and its possibility recognised with pleasure by Lincoln 
himself.^ 

As a matter of fact, the exact reverse of this lowly origin 
of the Lincoln Family was the case, and this will reach 
its final and convincing proof in the following pages, in 
which will be demonstrated that for four centuries the 
ancestors of Abraham Lincoln were easily the peers of 
their associates in England as well as in America; as 
prosperous yeomen or minor gentry in the Old World, 
and, from the time of their arrival in the Colony, fore- 
most in the ranks of those who developed the wilderness 
into the fair land we love to-day, and of which their de- 
scendant was destined to be the saviour. 

Of the eleven generations of clearly proven ancestry, 
one generation only, the President's unfortunate father, 
has been unable to maintain the claim of primus inter 
pares, and this through no fault of his own, but by a chain 
of calamities even more tragic and fatal to him than those 
which deprived Edward Lincoln, the father of Samuel 
Lincoln, the English emigrant, of his birthright." 

Many attempts have been made to clear away the mys- 
tery surrounding the genealogy of the family, beginning 
in 1848, when Hon. Solomon Lincoln, the well-known his- 
torian of Hingham, Mass., in correspondence with Abra- 
ham Lincoln, then a member of Congress, elicited from 
him his scanty knowledge of his forefathers. This ma- 

*N. E. Bist. Gen. Reg., July, 1894, vol. xlviii, p. 328. 
* See English Ancestry, infra. 

[19] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



terial was not printed until after the President's death ^ 
and was followed, a year later, by the best of the early 
histories of Lincoln,^ in which was set forth for the first 
time an outline of what has since proved to be substan- 
tially the correct pedigree of the American lineage. 

Gradually other contributions to the truth filtered to 
light, notably those of Mr, J. W. Potts of Camden, N. J.,^ 
and of Mr. Samuel Shackford of Chicago,^ the latter be- 
ing a masterly resume of the facts proving the direct de- 
scent of the President's family from the parent stock at 
Hingham, Mass. 

The American Pedigi'ee had now been placed upon a 
sound basis and accepted by all intelligent writers, al- 
though certain details of no small importance to the truth 
of history still remained hidden and will be first made pub- 
lic here, adding important names and lineages to the pedi- 
gree, and, in some cases, disproving statements, honestly 
put forward as facts, but which will not bear the lime- 
light of criticism, and whose elimination but leaves the 
proven pedigree stronger by so much in the test which 
has been applied to it. 

The English Ancestry had remained until recently an 
unsolved, and apparently insoluble, problem, and one with 
which the American author had battled for a score of 

^N. E. Hist. Gen. Reg., October, 1865, vol. xix, p. 360. 
'Ldfe of Abraham Lincoln, by J. G. Holland, 1866. 
*N. Y. Gen. and Biog. Record, April, 1872, vol. iii, p. 69. 
*N. E. Hist. Gen. Reg., April, 1887, vol. xli, p. 153. A portion of 
this article had already appeared in the Chicago Tribune. 
[20] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



years, the last three of which were in conjunction with 
his English colleague, to whose keen eye it was given at 
last to detect the one document which could ever have 
given the key to the hidden mystery. This happy dis- 
covery brought order out of the chaos of documents, ab- 
stracts, and references so painfully accumulated, which 
now fell together like the pattern in a kaleidoscope or the 
blocks of a Chinese puzzle. 

The long quest, ended at last, and crowned by a reward 
far exceeding the most sanguine anticipations, now enables 
us to give to history, in one of the clearest and most per- 
fectly proven pedigrees that it has ever been our fortune 
to construct, the full lineage of the Greatest American. 

The foregoing "Introductory" (with notes) and the following 
"Family Tree" are from The Ancestry of Abraham Lincoln, by J. 
Henry Lea and J. R. Hutchinson. (Boston and New York, 1909: 
Houghton Mifflin Co.) By special permission of the copyright own- 
era, Mrs. Ida F. Lea and Mr. J. R. Hutchinson. 



[21] 



CHRONOLOGY OF THE LIFE OF LINCOLN 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



CHRONOLOGY 

1809 — February 12. Abraham Lincoln was born on the 
Big South Fork of Nolin Creek, in Hardin, now La- 
Rue County, Kentucky. 

1816 — Removed with his parents to Indiana, settling on 
Little Pigeon Creek, near Gentryville, Spencer 
County. 

1818 — l^ancy Hanks Lincoln, his mother, died. 

1819 — His father married Sarah Bush Johnston. 

1828 — Went to New Orleans on a flatboat. 

1830 — The Lincolns went to Hlinois, settling near Deca- 
tur, Macon County. Abraham split the historical 
rails. 

1831 — Went to New Orleans on a flatboat. July. Went 
to New Salem, Sangamon County. Clerk in store. 

1832 — March. Announced himself candidate for legis- 
lature. Captain in Black Hawk War. July. Mus- 
tered out. August. Defeated for election. 

1833 — Engaged in business with Berry. Began to study 
law. The firm of Lincoln & Berry failed. May. 
Postmaster of New Salem. Deputy surveyor of San- 
gamon County. 

1834 — Again candidate for legislature, and elected. 

1835 — Was at Vandalia as member of legislature. Met 

[25] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Stephen A. Douglas. Fell in love with Anne Rut- 
ledge, who died. Was plunged into melancholia. 
Love affair with Mary Owens. Re-elected to legisla- 
ture. Leader of ^'Long Nine." Worked for Inter- 
nal Improvement bubble, and succeeded in having 
State capital removed to Springfield. Protested 
against resolutions condemning abolitionism. Ad- 
mitted to the bar. 

1837 — Settled in Springfield, forming partnership with 
John T. Stuart. 

1838 — Re-elected to legislature. Minority candidate for 
Speaker. 

1840 — Candidate for Presidential elector on Wliig ticket. 
Stumped the State for Harrison. Had encounters 
with Douglas. Re-elected to legislature, and again 
minority candidate for Speaker. 

1841 — He and Douglas rivals for hand of Mary Todd. 
Engagement with Mary Todd broken. Ill and al- 
most deranged. Visited his friend Joshua Speed 
in Kentucky. Challenged to a duel by James T. 
Shields. AjyTil 14. Formed law partnership with 
Judge Stephen T. Logan. Refused Whig nomina- 
tion for governor. 

1842 — November 4. Married to Mary Todd. 

1843 — September 20. Formed law partnership with 
William H. Herndon. 

1844 — Candidate for Presidential elector on Whig ticket, 
and stumped Illinois and Indiana for Henry Clay. 
[26] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



1846 — Elected to Thirtieth Congress over Peter Cart- 
wright. 

1847 — In Congress. Introduced famous "Spot" Resolu- 
tions. 

1848 — Presidential elector on Whig ticket, and stumped 
New England for Taylor. December. Attended 
second session of the Thirtieth Congress. Voted 
for Wilmot Proviso and Ashmun's amendment. 
Introduced bill abolishing slavery in District of Co- 
lumbia. Sought appointment as commissioner of 
General Lands Office, and failed. Declined appoint- 
ment as Territorial Governor of Oregon. Went back 
to Springfield disappointed and disillusioned. 

1849 — Practised law on old Eighth Judicial Circuit of 
Illinois. 

1852 — Campaigned for Scott. 

1854 — Roused by repeal of Missouri Compromise and pas- 
sage of Kansas-Nebraska bill. Attacked Douglas's 
position. November. Elected to legislature against 
his will. 

1855 — January. Resigned from legislature to become 
candidate for United States senator. February. 
Defeated for United States senator. 

1856 — May 29. Spoke at Bloomington Convention, 
which organised the Republican party in Illinois. 
Received 110 votes for Vice-President in Republican 
Convention at Philadelphia. Candidate for Presi- 
dential elector on Republican ticket, and campaigned 
for Fremont. Attacked Douglas's position. 

[27] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



1858 — June 16. Nominated for United States Senate 
bj Republicans in State Convention. July 24. 
Challenged Douglas to joint debate. Great debate 
with Douglas. Carried Illinois for Republicans on 
popular vote, but lost a majority of the legislative 
districts. 

1859 — January. Defeated for Senate by Douglas before 
legislature. Spoke that fall in Ohio, and in Decem- 
ber in Kansas. 

1860 — February 27. Delivered notable address at Coop- 
er Institute, New York. Spoke also in New England. 
May 9. Named by Illinois Convention at Decatur 
as "Rail" candidate for President. May 16. Nom- 
inated for President by Republicans at Chicago. 
November. Elected. 

1861 — February 11. Left Springfield for Washington. 
March 4. Inaugurated as President. April 13. 
Fall of Fort Sumter. April 15. Issued call for vol- 
unteers, and convened Congress in extraordinary ses- 
sion for July 4. July 21. Battle of Bull Run. 
July 25. Appointed McClellan to command Army 
of Potomac. November 1. Appointed McClellan 
commander-in-chief, under the President, of all 
armies. December 3. Message to Congi-ess. De- 
cember 25. Ordered the return of Mason and Sli- 
dell, captured Commissioners of the Confederacy, and 
averted war with England. 

1862 — January 13. Appointed Edwin M. Stanton Secre- 
tary of War. Sent special message to Congress, rec- 
[28] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ommending gradual compensated emancipation of 
slaves. July 11. Appointed Halleck general-in- 
chief. September 22. Issued preliminary proclama- 
tion of emancipation after battle of Antietam. De- 
cember. Message to Congress again urging gradual 
compensated emancipation. Superseded McClellan in 
command of Army of the Potomac by Burnside. De- 
cember 13. Burnside defeated at Fredericksburg. 

1863 — January 1. Issued Emancipation Proclamation. 
January 26. Appointed Hooker to succeed Burn- 
side. May 2. Hooker lost battle of Chancellors- 
ville. June 27. Appointed Meade to succeed 
Hooker. July 1-4. Battle of Gettysburg. July 4. 
Pall of Vicksburg. September 19, 20. Battle of 
Chickamauga. Novernber 19. Delivered address at 
'' dedication of the National Cemetery on the battle- 
field of Gettysburg. November 24, 25. Grant woa 
battles of Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridga 
December 8. Message to Congress and Proclamation 
of Amnesty. 

1864 — March 3. Commissioned Grant lieutenant-gen- 
eral and placed him in command of all the armies. 
June 7. Renominated for President by Republican 
National Convention at Baltimore. August 23. 
Had premonition of defeat. November 8. Re- 
elected. 

1865 — February 1. Hampton Roads Peace Conference 
with Confederate Commissioners. March 4. Inaug- 
urated as President a second time. March 22. Vis- 

[29] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ited Grant at City Point. April 4. Entered Rich- 
mond. April 14. Shot in Ford's Theatre at 10 :20 
o'clock in the evening. April 15. Died at 7:22 
o'clock in the morning. May 4. Buried in Spring- 
field. 



[30] 



LINCOLN PAPERS 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



"It is the eternal struggle between these two principles 
— right and wrong — throughout the world. They are the 
two principles that have stood face to face from the begin- 
ning of time, and will ever continue to struggle. The one 
is the common right of humanity, and the other the divine 
right of kings. . . . Whenever the issue can be distinctly 
made and all extraneous matter thrown out, so that men 
can fairly see the real differences between the parties, this 
controversy will soon be settled, and it will be done peace- 
ably, too." 

The above is an extract from Lincoln's last speech in his great 
engagements with Douglas, Oct. 15, 1858. 



[33] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



"My friends, no one, not in my situation, can appre- 
ciate my feeling of sadness at this parting. To this place, 
and the kindness of these people, I owe everything. Here 
I have lived a quarter of a century and have passed from 
a young to an old man. Here my children have been 
born and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing 
when or whether ever I may return, with a task before 
me greater than that which rested upon "Washington. 
Without the assistance of that Divine Being who ever at- 
tended him, I cannot succeed. With that assistance, I 
cannot fail. Trusting to Him who can go with me, and 
remain with you, and be everyw^here for good, let us con- 
fidently hope that all will yet be well. To His care com- 
mending you, as I hope in your prayers you will com- 
mend me, I bid you an affectionate farewell." 

On February 11, 1861, Lincoln left Springfield for Washington. 
Ilis old friends and neighbours went down to the railway station 
to see him off, and stood patiently, bareheaded in the rain, while, 
with tears streaming down his dark cheeks, he made the above fare- 
well speech from the platform of the coach. This address is cut in 
a great block of granite forming a background for Andrew O'Con- 
nor's statue at Springfield. (See facing p. 206.) 



rs-t] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE FIRST INAUGURAL ADDRESS 

lELLOW-CITIZENS OF THE UNITED STATES: 
In compliance with a cnstom as old as the Govern- 
ment itself, I appear before yon to address yon briefly, and 
to take in your presence the oath prescribed by the Consti- 
tution of the United States to be taken by the President 
"before he enters on the execution of his office." 

I do not consider it necessary at present for me to dis- 
cuss those matters of administration about which there is 
no special anxiety or excitement. 

Apprehension seems to exist among the people of the 
Southern States that by the accession of a Republican 
Administration their property and their peace and per- 
sonal security are to be endangered. There has never been 
any reasonable cause for such apprehension. Indeed, the 
most ample evidence to the contrary has all the while ex- 
isted and been open to their inspection. It is found in 
nearly all the public speeches of him who now addresses 
you. I do but quote from one of those speeches when I 
declare that "I have no purpose, directly or indirectly, to 
interfere with the institution of slavery in the States where 
it exists. I believe I have no lawful right to do so, and 
I have no inclination to do so." Those who nominated 
and elected me did so with full knowledge that I had made 

[35] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



this and many similar declarations, and had never recanted 
them. And, more than this, they placed in the platform 
for my acceptance, and as a law to themselves and to me, 
the clear and emphatic resolution which I now read: 

"Resolved, That the maintenance inviolate of the rights 
of the States, and especially to the right of each State to 
order and control its own domestic institutions according 
to its own judgment exclusively, is essential to that bal- 
ance of power on which the perfection and endurance of 
our political fabric depend, and we denounce the lawless 
invasion by armed force of the soil of any State or Ter- 
ritory, no matter under what pretext, as among the grav- 
est of crimes." 

I now reiterate these sentiments; and, in doing so, I 
only press upon the public attention the most conclusive 
evidence of which the case is susceptible, that the property, 
peace and security of no section are to be in anywise en- 
dangered by the now incoming Administration. I add, 
too, that all the protection which, consistently with the 
Constitution and the laws, can be given, will be cheerfully 
given to all the States when lawfully demanded, for 
whatever cause — as cheerfully to one section as to an- 
other. 

There is much controversy about the delivering up of 
fugitives from service or labour. The clause I now read 
is as plainly written in the Constitution as any other of 
its provisions: 

"No person held to service or labour in one State, un- 
der the laws thereof, escaping into another, shall in conse- 
L36J 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



quence of any law or regulation therein be discharged from 
such service or labour, but shall be delivered up on claim 
of the party to whom such service or labour may be due." 

It is scarcely questioned that this provision was intended 
by those who made it for the reclaiming of what wo call 
fugitive slaves; and the intention of the lawgiver is the 
law. All members of Congress swear their support to 
the whole Constitution — to this provision as to any other. 
To the proposition, then, that slaves, whose cases come 
within the terms of this clause, "shall be delivered up" 
their oaths are unanimous. Now, if they would make the 
effort in good temper, could they not, with nearly equal 
unanimity, frame and pass a law by means of which to 
keep good that unanimous oath ? 

There is vsome difference of opinion whether this clause 
should be enforced by national or by State authority; but 
surely that difference is not a very material one. If the 
slave is to be surrendered, it can be of but little conse- 
quence to him, or to others, by which authority it is done. 
And should any one, in any case, be content that his oath 
shall go unkept, on a merely unsubstantial controversy as 
to how it shall be kept ? 

Again, in any law upon this subject, ought not all the 
safeguards of liberty known in civilised and humane juris- 
prudence to be introduced so that a free man be not, in any 
case, surrendered as a slave ? And might it not be well at 
the same time to provide by law for the enforcement of 
that clause in the Constitution which guarantees that "the 

[37] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



citizen of each State shall be entitled to all privileges and 
immunities of citizens in the several States" ? 

I take the official oath to-day with no mental reserva- 
tions and with no purpose to construe the Constitution or 
laws by any hypercritical rules. And while I do not 
choose now to specify particular acts of Congress as proper 
to be enforced. I do suggest that it will be much safer for 
all, both in official and private stations, to conform to and 
abide by all those acts which stand unrepealed, than to 
violate any of them trusting to find impunity in having 
them held unconstitutional. 

It is seventy-two years since the first inauguration of 
a President under our National Constitution. During that 
period fifteen different and greatly distinguished citizens 
have, in succession, administered the Executive branch of 
the Government. They have conducted it through many 
perils, and generally with great success. Yet, with all this 
scope of precedent, I now enter upon the same task for the 
brief constitutional term of four years, under great and 
peculiar difficulty. A disruption of the Federal Union, 
heretofore only menaced, is now formidably attempted. 

T hold that, in contemplation of universal law and of 
tho Constitution, the union of these States is perpetual. 
Perpetuity is implied, if not expressed, in the fundamental 
law of all national governments. It is safe to assert that 
no government proper ever had a provision in its organic 
law for its own termination. Continue to execute all the 
express provisions of our National Constitution, and the 
Union will endure forever — it being impossible to destroy 
[38] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



it except by some action not provided for in the instru- 
ment itself. 

Again, if the United States be not a government proper, 
but an association of States in the nature of contract 
merely, can it, as a contract, be peaceably unmade by less 
than all the parties who made it ? One party to a contract 
may violate it — break it, so to speak, but does it not require 
all to lawfully rescind it ? 

Descending from these general principles, we find the 
proposition that, in legal contemplation, the Union is per- 
petual, confirmed by the history of the Union itself. The 
Union is much older than the Constitution. It was 
formed, in fact, by the Articles of Association in 1774, 
It was matured and continued by the Declaration of In- 
dependence in 1776. It was further matured, and the 
faith of all the then thirteen States expressly plighted 
and engaged that it should be perpetual, by the Articles 
of Confederation in 1778. And, finally, in 1787, one 
of the declared objects for ordaining and establishing the 
Constitution was "to form a more perfect Union." 

But if destruction of the Union by one, or by a part 
only, of tlie States be lawfully possible, the Union is less 
perfect than before the Constitution, having lost the vital 
element of perpetuity. 

It follows from these views that no State, upon its own 
mere motion, can lawfully get out of the Union; that 
resolves and ordinances to that effect are legally void ; and 
that acts of violence, within any State or States, against 

[30] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



the authority of the United States, are insurrectionary or 
revolutionary, according to circumstances. 

I therefore consider that, in view of the Constitution 
and the laws, the Union is unbroken; and to the extent 
of my ability I shall take care, as the Constitution itself 
expressly enjoins upon me, that the laws of the Union 
be faithfully executed in all the States. Doing this I 
deem to be only a simple duty on my part; and I shall 
perform it, so far as practicable, unless my right- 
ful masters, the American people, shall withliold the req- 
uisite means, or in some authoritative manner direct the 
contrary. I trust this will not be regarded as a menace, 
but only as the declared purpose of the Union that it will 
constitutionally defend and maintain itself. 

In doing this there needs to be no bloodshed or vio- 
lence; and there shall be none, unless it be forced upon 
the national authority. The power confided to me will 
be used to hold, occupy, and possess the property and 
places belonging to the government, and to collect the 
duties and imports; but beyond what may bo necessary 
for these objects, there will be no invasion, no using of 
force against or among the people anywhere. Where hos- 
tility to the United States, in any interior locality, shall 
be so great and universal as to prevent competent resident 
citizens from holding the Federal offices, there will be no 
attempt to force obnoxious strangers among the people 
for that object. While the strict legal right may exist 
in the government to enforce the exercise of these offices, 
the attempt to do so would be so irritating, and so nearly 
[40] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



impracticable withal, that I deem it better to forego for 
the time the uses of such offices. 

The mails, unless repelled, will continue to be furnished 
in all parts of the Union. So far as possible, the people 
everywhere shall have that sense of perfect security which 
is most favourable to calm thought and reflection. The 
course here indicated will be followed unless current 
events and experience shall show a modification or change 
to be proper, and in every case and exigency my best dis- 
cretion will be exercised according to circumstances ac- 
tually existing, and with a view and a hope of a peaceful 
solution of the national troubles, and the restoration of fra- 
ternal sympathies and affections. 

That there are persons in one section or another who 
seek to destroy the Union at all events, and are glad of 
any pretext to do it, I will neither affirm nor deny; but 
if there be such, I need address no word to them. To 
those, however, who really love the Union, may I not 
speak ? 

Before entering upon so grave a matter as the destruc- 
tion of our national fabric, with all its benefits, its mem- 
ories, and its hopes, would it not be wise to ascertain 
precisely why we do it? Will you hazard so desperate 
a step while there is any possibility that any portion of 
the ills you fly from have no real existence? Will you, 
while the certain ills you fly to are gTcater than all the 
real ones you fly from — will you risk the commission of so 
fearful a mistake? 

All profess to be content in the Union, if all con&titu- 

[41] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



tional rights can be maintained. Is it true, then, that any 
right, plainly written in the Constitution, has been denied ? 
I think not. Happily the human mind is so constituted 
that no party can reach to the audacity of doing this. 
Think, if you can, of a single instance in which a plainly 
written provision of the Constitution has ever been denied. 
If by the mere force of numbers a majority should de- 
prive a minority of any clearly written constitutional 
right, it might, in a moral point of view, justify revolu- 
tion — certainly would, if such right were a vital one. 
But such is not our case. All the vital rights of minori- 
ties and of individuals are so plainly assured to them by 
affirmations and negations, guarantees and prohibitions, in 
the Constitution, that controversies never arise concerning 
them. But no organic law can ever be framed with a 
provision specifically applicable to every question which 
may occur in practical administration. No foresight can 
anticipate, nor any document of reasonable length contain, 
express provisions for all possible questions. Shall fugi- 
tives from labour be surrendered by national or State au- 
thority? The Constitution does not expressly say. Mai/ 
Congress prohibit slavery in the Territories? The Con- 
stitution does not expressly say. Must Congress protect 
slavery in the Territories ? The Constitution does not 
expressly say. 

From questions of this class spring all our constitutional 

controversies, and we divide upon them into majorities 

and minorities. If the minority will not acquiesce, the 

majority must, or the government must cease. There 

[42] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



is no other alternative, for continuing the government is 
acquiescence on one side or the other. 

If a minority in such case will secede rather than ac- 
quiesce, they make a precedent which in turn will divide 
and ruin them ; for a minority of their own will secede 
from them wlicnever a majority refuses to be controlled 
by such minority. For instance, why may not any por- 
tion of a new confederacy, a year or two hence, arbitrarily 
secede again, precisely as portions of the present Union 
now claim to secede from it? All who cherish disunion 
sentiments are now being educated to the exact temper 
of doing this. 

Is there such perfect identity of interests among the 
States to compose a new Union as to produce harmony 
only, and prevent renewed secession? 

Plainly, the central idea of secession is the essence of 
anarchy. A majority held in restraint by constitutional 
checks and limitations, and always changing easily with 
deliberate changes of popular opinions and sentiments, is 
the only true sovereign of a free people. Whoever re- 
jects it does, of necessity, fly to anarchy or to despotism. 
Unanimity is impossible ; the rule of a minority, as a per- 
manent arrangement, is wholly inadmissible; so that, re- 
jecting the majority principle, anarchy or despotism in 
some form is all that is left. -^ 

1 do not forget the position, assumed by some, that 
constitutional questions are to be decided by the Supreme 
Court ; nor do I deny that such decisions must be binding, 
in any case, upon the parties to a suit, as to the object 

[43] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



of that suit, while they are also entitled to very high re- 
spect and consideration in all parallel cases by all other 
departments of the government. And while it is ob- 
viously possible that such decision may be erroneous in 
any given case, still the evil effect following it, being lim- 
ited to that particular case, with the chance that it may 
be overruled, and never become a precedent for other 
cases, can better be borne than could the evils of a differ- 
ent practice. At the same time, the candid citizen must 
confess that if the policy of the government, upon vital 
questions, affecting the whole people, is to be irrevocably 
fixed by decisions of the Supreme Court, the instant they 
are made, in ordinary litigation between parties in per- 
sonal actions, the people will have ceased to be their own 
rulers, having to that extent practically resigned their gov- 
ernment into the hands of that eminent tribunaLjl Nor is 
there in this view any assault upon the courfTorthe judges. 
It is a duty from which they may not shrink to decide 
cases properly brought before them, and it is no fault of 
theirs if others seek to turn their decisions to political 
purposes. 

One section of our country believes slavery is right, and 
ought to be extended, while the other believes it is wrong, 
and ought not to be extended. This is the only substan- 
tial dispute. The fugitive-slave clause of the Constitu- 
tion, and the law for the suppression of the foreign slave 
trade, are each as well enforced, perhaps, as any law can 
ever be in a community where the moral sense of the peo- 
ple imperfectly supports the law itself. The great body 
[44] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



of the people abide by the dry legal obligation in both 
cases, and a few break over in each. This, I think, can- 
not be perfectly cured ; and it would be worse in both cases 
after the separation of the sections than before. The for- 
eign slave trade, now imperfectly suppressed, would be ul- 
timately revived without restriction in one section, while 
fugitive slaves, now only partially surrendered, would not 
be surrendered at all by the other. 

Physically speaking, we cannot separate. We cannot re- 
move our respective sections from each other, nor build 
an impassable wall between them. A husband and wife 
may be divorced, and go out of the presence and beyond the 
reach of each other ; but the different parts of our country 
cannot do this. They cannot but remain face to face, and 
intercourse, either amicable or hostile, must continue be- 
tween them. Is it possible, then, to make that intercourse 
more advantageous or more satisfactory after separation 
than before ? Can aliens make treaties easier than friends 
can make laws ? Can treaties be more faithfully enforced 
between aliens than laws can among friends? Suppose 
you go to war, you cannot fight always; and when, after 
much loss on both sides, and no gain on either, you cease 
fighting, the identical old questions as to terms of inter- 
course are again upon you. 

This country, with its institutions, belongs to the people 
who inhabit it. Whenever they shall grow weary of the 
existing government they can exercise their constitutional 
right of amending it, or their revolutionary right to dis- 
member or overthrow it. I cannot be ignorant of the fact 

[45] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



that many worthy and patriotic citizens are desirous of 
having the ^National Constitution amended. While I make 
no recommendation of amendments, I fully recognise the 
rightful authority of the people over the whole subject, to 
be exercised in either of the modes prescribed in the in- 
strument itself; and I should, under existing circum- 
stances, favour rather than oppose a fair opportunity being 
offered the people to act upon it. I will venture to add 
that to me the convention mode seems preferable, in that it 
allows amendments to originate with the people themselves, 
instead of only permitting them to take or reject proposi- 
tions originated by others, not especially chosen for the 
purpose, and which might not be precisely such as they 
would wish to either accept or refuse. I understand a pro- 
posed amendment to the Constitution — which amendment, 
however, I have not seen — has passed Congress, to the ef- 
fect that the Federal Government shall never interfere with 
the domestic institutions of the States, including that of 
persons held to service. To avoid misconstruction of what 
I have said, I depart from my purpose, not to speak of 
particular amendments, so far as to say that, holding such 
a provision to now be implied constitutional law, I have no 
objection to its being made express and irrevocable. 

The Chief Magistrate derives all his authority from the 
people, and they have conferred none upon him to fix 
terms for the separation of the States. The people them- 
selves can do this also if they choose; but the Executive, 
as such, has nothing to do with it. His duty is to admin- 
[46] 



I 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ister the present government, as it came to his hands, and 
to transmit it, unimpaired by him, to his successor. 

Why should there not he a patient confidence in the ulti- 
mate justice of the people ? Is there any better or equal 
hope in the world ? In our present differences is either 
party without faith of being in the right ? If the Al- 
mighty Euler of ^Nations, with His eternal truth and jus^ 
tice, be on your side of the North, or on yours of the 
South, that truth and that justice will surely prevail by 
the judgment of this great tribunal of the American people. 

By the frame of the government under which we live, 
this same people have wisely given their public servants 
but little power for mischief ; and have, with equal wisdom, 
provided for the return of that little to their own hands 
at very short intervals. While the people retain their 
virtue and vigilance, no administration, by any extreme 
of wickedness or folly, can very seriously injure the gov- 
ernment in the space of four years. 

My countrymen, one and all, think calmly and well upon 
this whole subject. Nothing valuable can be lost by tak- 
ing time. If there be an object to hurry any of you, in 
hot haste, to a step which you would never take deliber- 
ately, that object will be frustrated by taking time; but 
no good object can be frustrated by it. Such of you as 
are now dissatisfied, still have the old Constitution unim- 
paired, and, on the sensitive point, the laws of your own 
framing under it ; while the new administration will have 
no immediate power, if it would, to change either. If it 
were admitted that you who are dissatisfied hold the right 

[47] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



side in the dispute, there still is no single good reason for 
precipitate action. Intelligence, patriotism, Christianity, 
and a firm reliance on Him who has never yet forsaken 
this favoured land are still competent to adjust, in the 
best way, all our present difficulty. 

In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow-countrymen, and 
not in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The 
government will not assail you. You can have no conflict 
without being yourselves the aggressors. You have no 
oath registered in heaven to destroy the government, 
while I shall have the most solemn one to "preserve, pro- 
tect, and defend it." 

I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. 
We must not be enemies. Though passion may have 
strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The 
mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battle- 
field, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearth- 
stone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus 
of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, 
by the better angels of our nature. 

Abeaham Lincoln. 

March k, 1861, 



[48] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



"The will of God prevails. In gi'eat contests each party 
claims to act in accordance with the will of God. Both 
may be and one must be wrong. God cannot be for and 
against the same thing at the same time. In the present 
civil war it is quite possible that God's purpose is somer 
thing different from the purpose of either party; and yet 
the human instrumentalities, working just as they do, are 
ready to say that this is probably true; that God wills 
this contest, and wills that it shall not end yet. By His 
mere great power on the minds of the now contestants, He 
could have either saved or destroyed the Union without a 
human contest. Yet the contest began. And having be- 
gun. He could give the final victory to either side any 
day. Yet the contest proceeds." 

Of the above meditation, from the Nicolay-Hay History of Abra- 
ham Lincoln, the authors say: "It is a paper which Mr. Lincoln 
wrote in September, 1862, while his mind was burdened with the 
weightiest question of his life, the weightiest with which this cen- 
tury has had to grapple. Wearied with all the considerations of 
law and of expediency with which he had been struggling for two 
years, he retired within himself and tried to bring some order into 
his thoughts by rising above the wrangling of men and of parties, 
and pondering the relations of human government to the Divine. 
In this frame of mind, absolutely detached from any earthly con- 
siderations, he wrote this meditation. It has never been published. 
It was not written to be seen of men. It waa penned in the awful 
sincerity of a perfectly honest soul trying to bring itself into closer 
communion with its Maker." 

[49] 



THE BOOK OF LINXOLN 



A LINCOLN ORDER 

THE President, Commander-in-Chief of the Army and 
Navy, desires and enjoins the orderly observance of 
the Sabbath by the officers and men in the military and 
naval service. The importance for man and beast of the 
prescribed weekly rest, the sacred rights of Christian sol- 
diers and sailors, a becoming deference to the best senti- 
ment of a Christian people, and a due regard for the Di- 
vine will, demand that Sunday labour in the Army and 
i^avy be reduced to the measure of strict necessity. The 
discipline and character of the national forces should not 
suffer, nor the cause they defend be imperilled, by the prof- 
anation of the day or name of the Most High. "At this 
time of public distress" — adopting the words of "Washing- 
ton in 1776 — "men may find enough to do in the service 
of God and their country without abandoning themselves 
to vice and immorality." The first General Order issued 
by the Father of his Country after the Declaration of In- 
dependence indicates the spirit in which our institutions 
were founded and should ever be defended. "The General 
hopes and trusts that every officer and man will endeavour 
to live and act as becomes a Christian soldier, defending 
the dearest rights and liberties of his country." 

November 16, 1862. 
[50] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES 
OF AMERICA: A PROCLAMATION 

WHEREAS, on the twenty-second day of Septem- 
ber, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight 
hundred and sixty-two, a proclamation was issued by the 
President of the United States, containing, among other 
things, the following, to wit: 

"That on the first day of January, in the year of 
"our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty- 
"three, all persons held as slaves within any State or 
"designated part of a State, the people whereof shall 
"then be in rebellion against the United States, shall 
"be then, thenceforward, and forever free ; and the 
"Executive Government of the United States, includ- 
"ing the military and naval authority thereof, will 
"recognise and maintain the freedom of such persons, 
"and will do no act or acts to repress such persons, 
"or any of them, in any efforts they may make for 
"their actual freedom. 

"That the Executive will, on the first day of Jan- 
"uary aforesaid, by proclamation, designate the 
"States and parts of States, if any, in which the peo- 
"ple thereof, respectively, shall then be in rebellion 
"against the United States; and the fact that any 

[51] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



"State, or the people thereof, shall on that day be, 
"in good faith, represented in the Congress of the 
"United States by members chosen thereto at elec- 
"tions wherein a majority of the qualified voters of 
"such State shall have participated, shall, in the ab- 
"sence of strong countervailing testimony, be deemed 
"conclusive evidence that such State, and the people 
"thereof, are not then in rebellion against the United 
"States." 

Now, therefore, I, Abraham Lincoln, President of the 
United States, by virtue of the power in me vested, as 
Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy of the United 
States in time of actual armed rebellion against the author- 
ity and government of the United States, and as a fit and 
necessary war measure for suppressing said rebellion, do, 
on this first day of January, in the year of our Lord one 
thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and in accordance 
with my purpose so to do, publicly proclaimed for the full 
period of one hundred days, from the day first above men- 
tioned, order and designate as the States and parts of 
States in which the people thereof, respectively, are this 
day in rebellion against the United States, the following, 
to wit: Arkansas, Texas, Louisiana (except the Parishes 
of St. Bernard, Plaquemines, Jefferson, St. Johns, St. 
Charles, St. James, Ascension, Assumption, Terrebonne, 
Lafourche, St. Mary, St. Martin, and Orleans, including 
the City of New Orleans), Mississippi, Alabama, Florida, 
Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, and Virginia 
[52] 




THE FIRST READING OF THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION, 
FROM PAINTING BY FRANCIS BICKNEI.L CARPENTER 



i 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



(except the forty-eight counties designated as West Vir- 
ginia, and also the counties of Berkeley, Accomac, North- 
ampton, Elizabeth City, York, Princess Ann, and ]N"or- 
folk, including the cities of Norfolk and Portsmouth), and 
which excepted parts are, for the present, left precisely as 
if this proclamation were not issued. 

And by virtue of the power, and for the purpose afore- 
said, I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves 
within said designated States, and parts of States, are, 
and henceforward shall be, free; and that the Executive 
Government of the United States, including the military 
and naval authorities thereof, will recognise and maintain 
the freedom of said persons. 

And I hereby enjoin upon the people so declared to be 
free to abstain from all violence, unless in necessary self- 
defence ; and I recommend to them that in all cases when 
allowed they labour faithfully for reasonable wages. 

And I further declare and make known, that such per- 
sons of suitable condition will be received into the armed 
service of the United States to garrison forts, positions, 
stations and other places, and to man vessels of all sorts 
in said service. 

And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of 
justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military ne- 
cessity, I invoke the considerate judgment of mankind, and 
the gracious favour of Almighty God. 

In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and 
caused the seal of the United States to be affixed. 

Done at the city of Washington, this first day of Jan- 

[53] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



uary, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred 
and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United 
States of America the eighty-seventh. 

Abeaham Lincoln. 
By the President : 
William H. Seward, 
Secretary of State. 



[54] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF 
THE CEMETERY AT GETTYSBURG 

FOUK score and seven years ago our fathers brought 
forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in 
Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are 
created equal. 

!Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether 
that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, 
can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that 
war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field 
as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives 
that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and 
proper that we should do this. 

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate — we cannot 
consecrate — we cannot hallow — this ground. The brave 
men, living and dead, who struggled here, have conse- 
crated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The 
world will little note nor long remember what we say here, 
but it can never forget what they did here. It is "'' ir us, 
the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the ue aished 
work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly 
advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the 
great task remaining before us — that from these honoured 
dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which 

[55] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



they gave the last full measure of devotion ; that we here 
highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain ; 
that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth cf free- 
dom ; and that government of the people, by the people, for 
the people, shall not perish from the earth. 

Abraham Lincoln. 
November 19, 1863. 



This speech is inscribed upon a large slab of granite before which 
stands the bronze statue by Daniel Chester French. (See p. 125.) 



[56] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



A LINCOLN LETTER 

"Deak Johnston: 

''Your request for eighty dollars I do not think it best 
to comply with now. At the various times when I have 
helped you a little you have said to me, 'We can get along 
very well now,' but in a very short time I find you in the 
same difficulty again. Now this can only happen by some 
defect in your conduct. What that defect is, I think I 
know. You are not lazy, and still you are an idler. I 
doubt whether, since I saw you, you have done a good 
whole day's work in any one day. You do not very much 
dislike to work, and still you do not work much, merely 
because it does not seem to you that you could get much 
for it. This habit of uselessly wasting time is the whole 
difficulty; it is vastly important to you, and still more 
so to your children, that you should break the habit. It 
is more important to them because they have longer to 
live, and can keep out of an idle habit, before they, are in 
it, easier than they can get out after they are in. 

''You are in need of some ready money, and what I pro- 
pose is that you shall go to work 'tooth and nail' for some- 
body who will give you money for it. Let father and your 
boys take charge of things at home, prepare for a crop, and 
make the crop, and you go to work for the best money 
wages, or in discharge of any debt you owe, that you can 
get, — and to secure you a fair reward for your labour, I 
now promise you that for every dollar vou will, between 

[57] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



this and the first of next May, get for your own labour, 
either in money or as your own indebtedness, I will give 
you one other dollar. By this, if you hire yourself at ten 
dollars a month, from me you will get ten more, making 
twenty dollars for your work. In this I do not mean you 
shall go off to St. Louis, or the lead mines, or the gold 
mines in California, but I mean for you to go at it for the 
best wages you can get close to home in Coles County. 
Now if you will do this, you will be soon out of debt, and, 
what is better, you will have a habit that will keep you 
from getting in debt again. But if I should now clear you 
out, next year you would be just as deep in as ever. You 
say you would give your place in heaven for $70 or $80. 
Then you value your place in heaven very cheap, for I am 
sure you can, with the oifer I make, get the seventy or 
eighty dollars for four or five months' work. 

"You say, if I will furnish you the money, you will 
deed me the land, and if you don't pay the money back 
you will deliver possession. ISTonsense ! If you can't now 
live with the land, how will you then live without it ! You 
have always been kind to me, and I do not mean to be 
unkind to you. On the contrary, if you will but follow my 
advice, you will find it worth more than eight times eighty 
dollars to you. 

"Affectionately, 

"Your brother, 

"A. Lincoln." 

Tliis letter to his step-brother, John D. Johnston, is of uncertain 
day of January, 1851. 

[58] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ANOTHER LINCOLN LETTER 



e% Ohna it-^^fSr, ^3«'*<^. ^^haxn 



•„.^.v^ U<U^ J^.r<^£^ Ojtti^Zpr^ t!^^>u,i.£cx ^^ ^,r«- ;Cvd 



-yy.^^^,^^ ,rft^ >^->^ C.--^ >^-^, i^-K^ -^ '^■o^^^^-^ Z'*-^^ 

It is not known what became of the original of this beautiful and 
wholly Lincoln-like expression of sympathy to Mrs. Bixby. Its first 
publication probably occurred in the AnnT/ antZ Navy Journal Dec. 
3, 1864 (p. 228). It is there preceded by the following note: 

"Mrs. Bixby, the recipient, is a poor widow, living in the Eleventh 
Ward of Boston. Her sixth son, who was severely wounded in a 
recent battle, is now lying in the Readville hospital." 

[59] 



THE BOOK OF LIxXCOLN 



THE SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS 

FELLOW-COUNTRYMEN: At this second ap- 
pearing to take the oath of the Presidential office, 
there is less occasion for an extended address than there 
was at the first. Then, a statement, somewhat in detail, 
of a course to be pursued, seemed fitting and proper. Now, 
at the expiration of four years, during which public declar- 
ations have been constantly called forth on every point and 
phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention 
and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new 
could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which 
all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public 
as to myself ; and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and 
encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no 
prediction in regard to it is ventured. 

On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago, 
all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil 
war. All dreaded it — all sought to avert it. While the 
inaugural address was being delivered from this place, de- 
voted altogether to saving the Union without war, insur- 
gent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without 
war — seeking to dissolve the Union, and divide effects, by 
negotiation. Both parties deprecated war; but one of 
them would make war rather than let the nation suiTive; 
[GO] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



and the other would accept war rather than let it perish. 
And the war came. 

One-eighth of the whole population were coloured 
slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but lo- 
calised in the Southern part of it. These slaves constitu- 
ted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this 
interest was, somehow, the cause of the war. To strengthen, 
perpetuate and extend this interest was the object for 
which the insurgents would rend the Union, even by war ; 
while the Government claimed no right to do more than 
to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party 
expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which 
it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the 
cause of the conflict might cease with, or even before, the 
conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier 
triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. 
Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God ; and 
each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem 
strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's as- 
sistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other 
men's faces ; but let us judge not, that we be not judged. 
The prayers of both could not be answered — that of neither 
has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own 
purposes. "Wo unto the world because of ofl:"ences ! For 
it must needs be that oftences come; but wo to that man 
by whom the offence cometh." If we shall suppose that 
American slavery is one of those offences which, in the 
providence of God, must needs come, but which, having 
continued through His appointed time, He now wills to 

[61] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



remove, and that He gives to both North and South this 
terrible war, as the wo due to those by whom the offence 
came, shall we discern therein any departure from those 
attributes which the believers in a living God always as- 
cribe to Ilim? Fondly do we hope — fervently do we 
pray — that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass 
away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the 
wealth piled by the bondman's two hundred and fifty years 
of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of 
blood drawn with the lash shall be paid with another 
drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years 
ago, so still it must be said, "The judgments of the Lord 
are true and righteous altogether." 

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with 
firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let 
us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the 
nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne 
the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan — to do all 
which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace 
among ourselves, and with all nations. 

Abraham Lincoln. 

March J,, 1865. 



[62] 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S PLACE IN HISTORY 



"Here is one more honoured than any other man while 
living, more revered when dying, and destined to he loved 
to the last syllable of recorded time." 




STATUE OF ABRAHAM I.IXC'OI.N' BV ADOU'II AJ.EKAXDEK WEFNIMAX, 
IN PITBI.IC SQUARE, HODGENSVTLl.E, KENTUCKY 



I 






THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S PLACE IN HISTORY 

HUMAN glory is often fickle as the winds, and 
transient as a summer day; but Abraham Lin- 
coln's place in history is assured. All the symbols of this 
world's admiration are his. He is embalmed in song, 
recorded in history, eulogised in panegyric, cast in bronze, 
sculptured in marble, painted on canvas, enshrined in the 
hearts of his countrymen, and lives in the memories of 
mankind. Some men are brilliant in their times, but their 
words and deeds are of little worth to history; but 
his mission was as large as his country, vast as humanity, 
enduring as time. !No greater thought can ever enter the 
human mind than obedience to law and freedom for all. 
Some men are not honoured by their contemporaries, and 
die neglected. Here is one more honoured than any other 
man while living, more revered when dying, and destined 
to be loved to the last syllable of recorded time. He has 
this threefold greatness, — great in life, great in death, 
great in the history of the world. Lincoln will gi*ow upion 
the attention and the affections of posterity, because he 
saved the life of the greatest nation, whose ever widening 
influence is to bless humanity. Measured by this standard, 
Lincoln shall live in history from age to age. 

Great men appear in groups, and in groups they disap- 

[65] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



pear from the vision of the world ; but we do not love or 
hate men in groups. We speak of Gutenberg and his 
coadjutors, of Washing-ton and his generals, of Lincoln 
and his cabinet; but when the day of judgment comes, we 
crown the inventor of printing, we place the laurel on the 
brow of the father of his country, and the chaplet of re- 
nown upon the head of the saviour of the licpublic. 

Some men are great from the littleness of their sur- 
roundings, but he only is great who is great amid great- 
ness. Lincoln had great associates, — Seward, the saga- 
cious diplomatist; Chase, the eminent financier; Stanton, 
the incomparable Secretary of War; with illustrious sena- 
tors and soldiers. None could take his part nor fill his 
position. And the same law of the coming and going of 
great men is true of our own day. In piping times of 
peace, genius is not aflame, and true greatness is not ap- 
parent ; but when the crisis comes, then God lifts the cur- 
tain from obscurity and reveals the man for the hour. 

Lincoln stands forth on the page of history, unique in 
his character and majestic in his individuality. Like Mil- 
ton's angel, he was an original conception. He was raised 
up for his times. He was a leader of leaders. By in- 
stinct the common heart trusted him. He was of the 
people and for the people. He had been poor and labori- 
ous; but greatness did not change the tone of his spirit, 
or lessen the s^Tiipathies of his nature. His character was 
strangely synmietrical. He was temperate, without auster- 
ity; brave, without rashness; constant, without obstinacy. 
He put caution against hope, that it might not be prema- 
[60] 



1 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ture; and hope against caution, that it might not yield to 
dread or danger. His marvellous hopefulness never be- 
trayed him into impracticable measures. His love of jus- 
tice was only equalled by his delight in compassion. His 
regard for personal honour was only excelled by love of 
country. His self-abnegation found its highest expression 
in the public good. His integrity was never questioned. 
His honesty was above suspicion. He was more solid than 
brilliant; his judgment dominated his imagination; his 
ambition was subject to his modesty, and his love of jus- 
tice held the mastery over all personal considerations. Not 
excepting Washington, who inherited wealth and high so- 
cial position, Lincoln is the fullest representative Ameri- 
can in our national annals. He had touched every round 
in the human ladder. He illustrated the possibilities of 
our citizenship. We are not ashamed of his humble ori- 
gin. We are proud of his greatness. 

We are to judge men by their surroundings, and meas- 
ure their greatness by the difficulties which they sur- 
mounted. Every age has its heroes, every crisis its master. 
Lincoln came into power in the largest and most violent 
political convulsion known to history. In nothing is the 
sagacity and might of Lincoln's statesmanship more ap- 
parent than in his determination to save the Union of 
these States. This was the objective point of his admin- 
istration. He denied State Sovereignty as paramount to 
I^ational Sovereignty. States have their rights and their 
obligations ; and their chief obligation is to remain in the 
Union. Some political philanthropists clamoured for the 

[67] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



overthrow of slavery, and advocated the dissolution of the 
Union rather than live in a country under whose govern- 
ment slavery was tolerated. But Lincoln was a wiser and 
a better philanthropist than they. He would have the 
Union, with or without slavery. He preferred it without, 
and his preference prevailed. How incomparably worse 
would have been the condition of the slave in a Confeder- 
acy with a living slave for its corner stone than in the 
Union of the States! Time has vindicated the character 
of his statesmanship, that to preserve the Union was to 
save this great nation for human liberty, and thereby ad- 
vance the emancipated slave to education, thrift, and po- 
litical equality. 

Bishop John Philip Newman. 

From "Pieces for Every Occasion," compiled by Caroline B. Le 
Row; copyright, 1901, by Hinda & Noble. 



[68] 



I. THE SOURCE OF LINCOLN 



"Thanh God for sires like these! 

Thank God for mothers ivho could brave the seas. 

And savage toil, that we, their sons, might he 

Forever free I" 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN OF THE WEST 

OUT of the West a Man,— 
One Jiian from all the West, 
In all the years, a myriad compressed; 
What lion breed, what sky, what potent earth 
Shall give him birth? 

What arms his cradle be, 
What scenes and men shall mould his infancy. 
This typal Man, this latest, stro7igest, best. 
This hero of the West? 



Only the bravest came, 

The coward trembled at the two months' sea; 
Only the strongest came, — 

The weakling feared the storm's inclemency; 
Only the best survived, — 

The faint and weary sank beneath their load, 
Beneath the squalor of the winter woods, 
The grinding toil, the maddening solitudes ; 

Only the fit and few, 
The demigods alone, shall blaze the road 

In worlds unmanned and new ; 
Only the granite will, 
Only the spark divine no force may kill; 

[71] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE ]MAN OF THE WEST— [Continued] 

Only the doubly picked, the best from out the best, 
Those mighty ones who broke our mighty West. 

Behold them fling the seed, 
This Titan breed, 

Crashing the forest down, 

Razing with sweat the site for mead and town, 
And pressing ever westward undismayed, — 

A century of forest and of toil, 

Of bare-hand battle for the naked soil, 
As Jacob wrestled on the midnight sod, 
As face to face with God. 

And shall they weaklings be? 

In every fibre shall they not be free? 
And can you bend them to the despot's will? 
And can you grind them in a tyrant's mill. 

These lusty, full-lunged breakers of the West, 

These forest-whelped, who knew nor ease nor rest 
'Not law nor king's decree 
Save God and strength of arm and liberty? 

And shall they cringe and fawn, 

And shall they yield like that low feudal spawn 
Age long wrung out for gold and power and bread, 
Until their very hearts and souls are dead? 

Thank God for sires like these! 

Thank God for mothers who could brave the seas. 

And savage toil, that we, their sons, might be 

Forever free. 

[72] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN OF THE WEST— [Continued] 

Out of this West a Man, 

One Man from all the West, 

In all the years, a myriad compressed; 
What lion breed, what sky, what potent earth 
Shall give him birth ? 

What arms his cradle be. 

What scenes and men shall mould his infancy. 
This typal Man, this latest, strongest, best. 
This hero of the West? 

A nation is a man; one Titan soul 
Pervades the whole. 

What human art 

May tear from France the stamp of Bonaparte? 
The empire on the Rhine, — 
"What is it but a Bismarck made divine? 

And Spain is Philip, though the outer show 

Has vanished long ago; 
And Britain would no longer Britain be 
Without her iron duke, her Nelson on the sea. 

But what of that new empire of the West, 

That rising power that shadows all the rest? 
What Titan man shall be her hero soul 
To rule and stamp the whole? 
Shall he be gently born. 

Of ancient lineage and high degree? 

Shall he a courtier be. 
And roundly trained all circles to adorn? 

[73] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAX OF THE SVEST— [Continued] 

Shall he be softly reared upon the gold 
Wrung from the peasant with a strangle hold? 

Shall he know luxury 

And live in riot, none to say him nay, 
'Not ever toil to win an honest day? 

Thank God, the virile, Manhood-moulding West 

Counts this not best. 

Thank God, upon our soil 
The man must toil. 

Thank God the man we pick to mould the rest 

Must be one nurtured at the new world's breast. 

Behold this hero, gaunt and border born, 

A man with every shred of soul and heart 

Of our new soil a part. 

Behold him ; this is he, 

This Jarl full-lunged, in every fibre free, 
Unpolished and ungainly; honest youth 
Is evermore uncouth, — 

And we are young. Thank God, these western lands 

Are still in swaddling bands; 
No task completely done; 
The mighty day is hardly yet begun. 

Behold him solid to the inner ring 

Like some gnarled forest king. 
Behold him, self-reliant as a god, 
Erect, clear-eyed, unawed; 

[74] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN OF THE WEST— [Continued^ 

A man of bare-armed toil, 

Who want has known and all the fret and moil 
And lonely heartache of the pioneer. 
Behold him here, 

This sad-eyed, silent man, 
And note the mighty power 
Coiled in his soul and waiting for its hour, — 

The power to seize its day ; to work and plan 
And bide its time; and single out the best, — 
The training of our Man-producing West. 

From out the West a Man. 
Behold our hero, him we joy to hold 
Before our sons to thrill and test and mould. 

No Bismarck he, 

No man of blood and iron and destiny; 
No Philip void of conscience and of heart; 
No self -awed Bonaparte; 

But one as gentle as a mother's soul ; 
As tender as a maiden, as a child 
As pure of heart and undefiled; 

Yet strong withal and mighty to control 

And bend the kings of men to do his will; 
A man of humble heart, yet strong to sway 
A continent his way 

God's purpose to fulfil. 

And they have called us small and craven-souled, 
Slaves of the dollar mark, 

[75] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE ]MAN OF THE WEST— [Continued] 

Without a thought above the maddening cark 
That makes for gold; 

And they have cast 

The taunt that we're a herd without a past. 
Without a past! My God, and have they read 
The roll-call of our dead? 

Those stern, brave mothers of our raw frontiers, , 



Those mighty pioneers 



Whose every step was toil and sacrifice ] 

And blood and streaming eyes? 

And think they that the tears < 

And heartaches of that fierce three hundred years i 
Have been forgot? 

'No, every mile of our vast nation's spread i 

Is sacred with our dead, | 

And every page upon our record roll 
Has its heroic soul. 

And can we cravens be 

Who heir this mighty, blood-bought legacy? 
Can we be sordid souled 
And sell our priceless heritage for gold 

Who bear within our veins some hero's tide, 

And breathe full lunged the air for which he died? 
Ah, all in vain they strike their puny blow. 
They do not know. 

And they forget the mighty hero soul 

Who heads our roll. 

[76] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN OF THE WEST— [Continued] 

With him our model can we sordid be? 
With him to mould us shall we not be free ? 

And shall we not in every nerve be true, 
And shall we not for God our duty do? 
And humble be, 
And gentle as the Christ of Galilee? 

Yet fierce withal to right a brother's wo 
And fight and die if duty hold it so? 
To guard our country's honest name 
From every breath of calumny and shame? 
To die exulting with our latest breath, 
If but the dear land profit by our death, 
To hold forever in our inmost breast 
A mighty love for this, our mother West, 
The land of all God's goodly land the best. 

And this we learned of that strong, typal man 

Who drew our plan, 

That final plan, the growth of our new soil, 
The culmination of three centuries' toil, 

The plan of empire that shall dominate 

The tyrant state, 

And sweep injustice from the ocean's brim. 
And make us strong forever, having him. 

Ah, deathless one, we see the hand of God 

And we are still. 
He does not work in petty human ways, 

All glory to His will. 



THE BOOK OF LINXOLN 



THE MAN OF THE WEST— [Continued] 

The mighty He casts down, 

And those of low degree, 

The pure in heart, His mighty ones shall be. 
And this the message to our rising West: 
There is no high or low, and truth is best. 

Teed Lewis Pattee. 



[78] 



I 



II. THE MOTHER OF LINCOLN 



^'Mother of Lincoln, 
Our tears, our praise; 

A hattle-flag 

And the victor's hays!'* 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



NANCY HANKS LINCOLN 

PRAIRIE child, 
Brief as dew, 
What winds of wonder 
Nourished you ? 

Rolling plains 

Of billowy green; 

Far horizons. 
Blue, serene; 

Lofty skies 

The slow clouds climb, 
.Where burning stars 

Beat out the time: 

These, and the dreams 

Of fathers bold- 
Baffled longings, 

Hopes untold — 

Gave to you 

A heart of fire, 
Love like deep waters, 

Brave desire. 



[81] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



NANCY HANKS LINCOLN— [Con/inwcd] 

Ah, when youth's rapture 

Went out in pain, 
And all seemed over, 
Was all in vain ? 

O soul obscure, 

Whose wings life hound, 

And soft death folded 
Under the ground. 

Wilding lady, 

Still and true, 
Who gave us Lincoln 

And never knew: 

To you at last 

Our praise, our tears, 

Love and a song- 
Through the nation's years. 

Mother of Lincoln, 

Our tears, our praise ; 
A battle-flag 

And the victor's bays! 

Harriet Monroe. 



[82] 



III. TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN 



'Made by God's providence the Anointed One.' 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN 

PROUDEST of all earth's thrones 
Is his who rules by a free people's choice ; 
Who, 'midst fierce party strife and battle groans, 
Hears, ever rising in harmonious tones, 
A grateful people's voice. 

Steadfast in thee we trust, 

Tried as no man was ever tried before; 

God made thee merciful, — God keep thee just; 

Be true! and triumph over all thou must- 
God bless thee evermore! 

Anonymous. 



[85] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



SUCH, AND SO GIFTED, LINCOLN 

STEEN be the Pilot in the dreadful hour 
When a great nation, like a ship at sea 
With the wroth breakers whitening her lee, 
Feels her last shudder if the helmsman cower; 
A godlike manhood be his mighty dower! 

Such, and so gifted, Lincoln, may'st thou be 
With thy high wisdom's low simplicity 
And awful tenderness of voted power: 
From our hot records then thy name shall stand 

On Time's calm ledger out of passionate days — 
With the pure debt of gratitude begun, 

And only paid in never-ending praise — 
One of the many of a mighty Land, 
Made by God's providence the Anointed One. 

John James Piatt. 
(1862) 



[80] 




PRESIDENT LINCOLN AND HIS SIX KETAItlES, JIESSRS. JOHN G. N ICOLAY 
AND JOHN HAY 



I 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



TO PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
January 1, 1863 

LIISrCGLlSr, that with thy steadfast truth the sand 
Of men and time and circumstance dost sway ! 
The slave-cloud dwindles on this golden day, 
And over all the pestilent southern land, 
Breathless, the dark expectant millions stand, 
To watch the northern sun rise on its way. 
Cleaving the stormy distance — every ray 
Sword-bright, sword-sharp, in God's invisible hand. 

Better with this great end, partial defeat, 

And jibings of the ignorant worldly-wise. 

Than laud and triumph won with shameful blows. 
The dead Past lies in its dead winding-sheet ; 

The living Present droops with tearful eyes; 
But far beyond the awaiting Future glows. 

Edmund Ollier. 
Morning Star, London, Eyigland. 



[87] 



IV. THE FIRST AMERICAN 



'New birth of our new soil, the first American.' 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE FIRST AMERICAN 

LIFE may be given in many ways, 
And loyalty to Truth be sealed 
As bravely in the closet as the field, 
So bountiful is Fate ; 
But then to stand beside her. 
When craven churls deride her, 
To front a lie in arms and not to yield, 
This shows, methinks, God's plan 
And measure of a stalwart man. 
Limbed like the old heroic breeds, 
Who stand self-poised on manhood's solid earth, 
Not forced to frame excuses for his birth. 
Fed from within with all the strength he needs. 

Such was he, our Martyr-Chief, 

Whom late the Nation he had led, 

With ashes on her head, 
Wept with the passion of an angry grief: 
Forgive me, if from present things I turn 
To speak what in my heart will beat and burn. 
And hang my wrath on his world-honoured urn. 

Nature, they say, doth dote. 

And cannot make a man 

Save on some worn-out plan, 

Kepeating us by rote : 

[91] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE FIRST AM^mCAN— [Continued] 

For him her Old-World moulds aside she threw, 

And, choosing sweet clay from the breast 

Of the imexliausted West, 
With stuff untainted shaped a hero new, 
Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true. 

How beautiful to see 
Once more a shepherd of mankind indeed. 
Who loved his charge, but never loved to lead; 
One whose meek flock the people joyed to be, 

Not lured by any cheat of birth. 

But by his cleai'-grained human worth, 
And brave old wisdom of sincerity ! 

They knew that outward grace is dust; 

They could not choose but trust 
In that sure-footed mind's unfaltering skill, 

And supple-tempered will 
That bent like perfect steel to spring again and thrust. 

His was no lonely mountain-peak of mind. 
Thrusting to thin air o'er our cloudy bars, 
A sea-mark now, now lost in vapours blind; 
Broad prairie rather, genial, level-lined, 
Fruitful and friendly for all human kind. 

Yet, also nigh to heaven and loved of loftiest stars. 
Nothing of Europe here. 

Or, then, of Europe fronting mornward still. 
Ere any names of Serf and Peer 
Could Nature's equal scheme deface 
[92] 




STATUK OF ABRAHA.M TINCOI.X BY ADOI.PII ALEXANDER WEIXMAX 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE FIRST AMEmCAN— [Continued] 
And thwart her genial will ; 
Here was a type of the true elder race, 
And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face. 

I praise him not; it were too late; 
And some innative weakness there must be 
In him who condescends to victory 
Such as the Present gives, and cannot wait, 
Safe in himself as in a fate. 
So always firmly he : 
He knew to bide his time. 
And can his fame abide, 
Still patient in his simple faith sublime, 
Till the wise years decide. 
Great captains with their guns and drums, 
Disturb our judgment for the hour, 
But at last silence comes; 
These all are gone, and, standing like a tower. 
Our children shall behold his fame. 

The kindly-earnest, brave, foreseeing man, 
Sagacious, patient, dreading praise, not blame, 
!N'ew birth of our new soil, the first American. 

James Kussell Lowell. 
From Ode Recited at the Harvard Commemoration, July 21, 1865. 



[031 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN, THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE 

WHEN" the Norn Mother saw the Whirlwind Hour, 
Threatening and darkening as it hurried on, 
She left the Heaven of Heroes and came down 
To make a man to meet the mighty need. 
She took the tried clay of the common road, 
Clay warm yet with the genial heat of Earth, 
Dashed through it all a strain of prophecy; 
Tempered the heap with touch of mortal tears. 
Then mixed a laughter with the serious stuff. 



The colour of the ground was in him, the red earth, 
The tang and odour of the primal things — 
The rectitude and patience of the rocks ; 
The gladness of the wind that shakes the corn; 
The courage of the bird that dares the sea ; 
The justice of the rain that loves all leaves; 
The pity of the snow that hides all scars ; 
The loving-kindness of the wayside well; 
The tolerance and equity of light 
That gives as freely to the shrinking weed 
As to the great oak flaring to the wind — 
To the grave's low hill as to the Matterhorn 
That shoulders out the sky. 
[94] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN, THE LIAN OF THE PEOPLE— [Continued] 

And SO he came. 
From prairie cabin up to Capitol 
One fair Ideal led our chieftain on. 
Forevermore he burned to do his deed 
With the fine stroke and gesture of a king. 
He built the rail pile as he built the State, 
Pouring his splendid strength through every blow, 
The conscience of him testing every stroke, 
To make his deed the measure of a man. 

So came the Captain with the mighty heart: 

And when the step of Earthquake shook the house, 

Wrenching the rafters from their ancient hold. 

He held the ridgepole up and spiked again 

The rafters of the Home. He held his place — 

Held the long purpose like a growing tree — 

Held on through blame and faltered not at praise, 

And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down 

As when a kingly cedar green with boughs 

Goes down with a great shout upon the hills 

And leaves a lonesome place against the sky. 

Edwin Makkham. 



[05] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MASTER 

A flying word from here and there 
Had sown the name at which we sneered, 
But soon the name was everywhere, 
To be reviled and then revered : 
A presence to be loved and feared, 
We cannot hide it, or deny 
That we, the gentlemen who jeered, 
May be forgotten by and by. 

He came when days were perilous 

And hearts of men were sore beguiled ; 

And having made his note of us, 

He pondered and was reconciled. | 

Was ever master yet so mild t 

As he, and so untamable ? '{ 

We doubted, even when he smiled, 

ISTot knowing what he knew so well. 

He knew that undeceiving fate 

Would shame us whom he served unsought ; • 

He knew that he must wince and wait — 

The jest of those for whom he fought; 



From "The Town Down the River;" copyright, 1910, by Giarles 
Scribner's Sons. 

[96] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MASTER— [Continued] 

He knew devoutedly what he thought 
Gf us and of our ridicule; 
He knew that we must all be taught 
Like little children in a school. 

We gave a glamour to the task 

That he encountered and saw through, 

But little of us did he ask, 

And little did we ever do. 

And what appears if we review 

The season when we railed and chaffed? 

It is the face of one who knew 

That we were learning while we laughed. 

The face that in our vision feels 

Again the venom that we flung, f 

Transfigured to the world reveals 

The vigilance to which we clung. 

Shrewd, hallowed, harassed, and among 

The mysteries that are untold. 

The face we see was never young, 

IsTor could it ever have been old. 

For he to whom we had applied 
Our shopman's test of age and worth, 
"Was elemental when he died. 
As he was ancient at his birth: 
The saddest among kings of earth. 
Bowed with a galling crown, this man 

[97] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE llASTER~[Continued] 

Met rancor with a cryptic mirth, 
Laconic — and Olympian. 

The love, the grandeiir, and the fame 
Are bounded by the world alone; 
The calm, the smouldering, and the flame 
Of awful patience were his own : 
With him they are forever flown 
Past all our lond self-shadowings, 
Wherewith we cumber the Unknown 
As with inept Icarian wings. 

For we were not as other men: 
'Twas ours to soar and his to see. 
But we are coming down again, 
And we shall come down pleasantly ; 
!Nor shall we longer disagree 
On what it is to be sublime, 
But flourish in our perigee 
And have one Titan at a time. 

Edwin Aklington Kobinson. 



[98] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

HIS people called and forth lie came 
As one that answers to his name; 
!Nor dreamed how high his charge, 
His privilege how large, — 

To set the stones back in the wall 
Lest the divided house should fall. 
The shepherd who would keep 
The flocks, would fold the sheep. 

Humbly he came, yet with the mien 
Presaging the immortal scene, — 
Some battle of His wars 
Who sealeth up the stars. 

"No flaunting of the banners bold 
Borne by the haughty sons of old; 
Their blare, their pageantries, 
Their goal, — they were not his. 

We called, he came ; he came to crook 
The spear into the pruuing-hook, 
To toil, untimely sleep. 
And leave a world to weep. 

Joiiis^ Vance Cheney. 
[99] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

WHEN" I remember how he dauntless stood, 
Giving himself to stem the civic flood ; 
How o'er his head the high waves seemed to meet, 
Yet broke and parted, flowing slow about his feet; 
When I remember what his face made known, 
How the crude clay became the angel in stone, 
I tremble, dimly knowing that God's plan 
Found part of its fulfilment in this man. 

The mass is man-becoming, — he became; 
In what he was is our potential fame; 
So blended are we all tliat one brave soul 
Cannot achieve the stars but that the whole 
Pulses with deeper life, and feels the night 
Lift to that morn where all shall walk in light. 

Valeria Kelset 



[lOOj 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



F 



LINCOLN 

I ATE struck the hour! 
A crisis hour of Time. 
The tocsin of a people clanging forth 
Thro' the wild South and thro' the startled Korth 
Called for a leader, master of his kind, 
Fearless and firm, with clear foreseeing mind ; 
Who should not flinch from calumny or scorn, 
Who in the depth of night could ken the morn; 
Wielding a giant power 
Humhly, with faith sublime. 
God knew the man His sovereign grace had sealed; 
God touched the man, and Lincoln stood revealed ! 

Jane L. Haedt 



[101] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



"MANIBUS DATE LILIA PLENIS" 

GREATHEAET, so lowly born, so rudely bred, 
Decreed the Captain of those lurid years, 
Loneling of Time, with suffocating tears 
Laid tenderly among the mightiest dead, 
"What trust, what love, thy towering spirit led 
Thro' dark, tremendous days! What sanity 
Girded thy sadness, Lincoln ! Humanity 
Thy mystic kin, whose life with longing bled. 
Out of the West, to weld the South and North 
In the war-blast, simple, so unaware 
Of thy rare dignity, pitiful and wise. 
Hearing the undertones that summoned forth 
Great hosts to die, when all was done, to bear 
Thy red libation to the sacrifice ! 

M. WooLSEY Steykee. 



[102] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



A HERO 

HE sang of joy; whate'er he knew of sadness 
He kept for his own heart's peculiar share: 
So well he sang, the world imagined gladness 
To be sole tenant there; 

For dreams were his, and in the daAvn's fair shining, 
His spirit soared beyond the mounting lark ; 

But from his lips no accent of repining 
Fell when the days grew dark; 

And though contending long dread Fate to master, 

He failed at last her enmity to cheat ; 
He turned with such a smile to face disaster 

That he sublimed defeat. 

Floeence Eaele Coates 



[103] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

The Child 

AS by the fire, a knot of pine for light, 
The boy from freshly finished toil lies down 
To master mysteries of verb and noun, 
Unmindful of the hours in hurried flight. 
E'en fairyland with king and doughty knight, 
Who wage their mimic wars in floral crown, — 
As youth, awak'ning, shows reluctant frown,- 
Must give the day and loan the hours of night 

So he who sees real battles to be won 
By thoughts and courage rescued from the wild 
Tumultuous years of boyhood reconciled 
To share the toil of brain with boist'rous fun. 
To learn, to know, perchance to weep, as one 
Who bears a manly burden while a child. 

The Man 
What time a gloom enshrouds the harried ground, 
A pall engulfs our hope, and glory hides 
Behind a wall of hatred that divides 
The states a nation thought securely bound; 
While strife and noise of war afar resound, 
A man steps forth between the swinging tides 
To teach the world anew that right abides 
[104] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Confmtted] 

Where freedom, love, and faith in man abound. 

In vain he writhed e'er Hell should swing the gate 
To reap the bloody fields, to kill and maim. 
In vain would he the sundered lands reclaim; 

Yet spelled the riven stars his cruel fate : 

To face the avalanche of war and hate 
Till Death entwined the mart;)T's crown of ifamie. 

The Memory 

Ah, such a man empyreal sphere attains, 

Who knows and feels his fellow's hurts and needs, 
Whose heart responds to every wound that bleeds 

And every soul entrapped by cruel pains, 

With love that falls like Heaven's fresh'ning rains. 
Uplifts the fallen and all the hungry feeds, 
Ignoring hate of race or jangling creeds. 

Or stains of iron from lately broken chains. 
How strong thy love, yet meek as gentle dove! 

Such perfect bloom from lowly tangled sod! 

While groping mortals, striving upward, plod. 

They'll reach and strain for thy enkindling love — 
Triumphant love vouchsafed from realms above, — 

In human form, the majesty of God. 

Edmond S. Meant. 



[105] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE STAR OF SANGAMON 

A NATION called through the gloom 
In one long wail of despair, 
One multitudinous prayer, 
'Neath portent of hastening doom ; 
And myriad strained eyes 
Were lifted to lowering skies. 

But on a sudden the night 
Was shaken; a marvellous light 
Burst forth, an effulgent spark 
Against the o'erwhelming dark, 
It waxed, it whitened, it shone 
Aflame in the widening zone 
Of dawn; and a world intent 
Read, scanning the firmament, 
God's covenant blazed thereon, 
America's horoscope. 
The sign of a Nation's hope, 
The Star of Sangamon. 

Not out of the East but the West 
A Star and a Saviour arose; 
A light to an eager quest, 
A spirit of grace possessed, 
[106] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE STAR OF SANGAMON"— [Con/inuetZ] 
Of faith 'mid increasing woes, 
Of wisdom manifest. 
And, forth from the variant past 
Of thraldom's darkness, at last 
God's measureless love for man 
Wrought through heredity's dower 
The great American, 
Whose soul was the perfect flower 
Of patriot planting in soil 
Kept moist by blood and tears, 
And fertile by faithful toil 
Throughout unnumbered years. 

Nor accident nor chance, 
But heavenly ordinance 
Set his nativity 
In ripened fulness of time, 
For sake of a race to be 
The pledge of a golden prime. 

In lowliest spot he breathed 

His first sweet breath of the earthi; 

And life's gTeat Parent bequeathed 

Fair virginal Nature from birth 

To be his tutor and friend, 

His youthful steps to attend. 

She led o'er the wooded hills 
And flowering prairied vales, 

[107] 



THE 1300K OF LINCOLN 



THE STAR OF SANGMION— [Confrnwerf] 
Along Ly the summer's rills, 
Against the winter's gales, 
Through sweeps of primeval ills, 
Across the Red Men's trails. 

She taught him the songs of birds, 
The s\Tnpathy-syllabled words 
Of water and earth and air, 
And pointed the winding stair 
That leads to Heaven, where climb 
The higher forces of time. 

She bound him, that he might feel 
The weight of Oppression's heel; 
She starved him, that he might learn 
The hunger of souls that yearn; 
She bruised him, that he might know 
Somewhat of the world's great wo. 

She helmed him with faith ; she placed 
The girdle of strength at his waist; 
And over his breast she laid 
The buckler of right ; the blade 
Of truth she set in his hand 
And bade him unwavering stand, 
As Moses stood with his rod. 
For Freedom and God. 
At length in a deathless hour 
She kissed him ; a quickening power 
[108] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE STAR OF SANGAMON— [CoJifiMwecZ] 

Shot forth through her lips of fire 
In touch of divine desire. 

One long sweet look of review; 

Then suddenly from her she threw 

Her manifold mantle of mystery; 

And, facing the great Before, 

On unto the famed door 

That opens out into history, 

In radiant rapture she led 

Her hero all panoplied, 

And thrust him from her to be, 

On mission immortal bent, 

Transfigurer of despair, 

The champion of Liberty, 

The hope of a continent, 

God's answer to prayer. 

Lyman Whitney Allen 

The above poem, and two others in this volume, "The People's 
King" and "The Nation's Prophet," are from Dr. Allen's poem 
"Abraham Lincoln," for which he was awarded the prize of one thou- 
sand dollars, by the New York Herald, as the best poem on American 
history. It was first published in the Christmas issues of the Neio 
York Herald, the Boston Herald, aad the St. Louis Republic, 1895. 

Bee Bibliography. 



[109] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

LINCOLN arose! the masterful great man, 
Girt with rudo grandeur, quelling doubt and fear- 
A more than king, yet in whose veins there ran 
The red blood of the people, warm, sincere. 
Blending of Puritan and Cavalier. 

Heney Tyeeell 



[1101 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

CHAINED by stern duty to tlie rock of State, 
His spirit armed in mail of rugged mirth, 
Ever above, though ever near to earth, 
Yet felt his heart the cruel tongues that sate 

Base appetites, and foul with slander, wait 

Till the keen lightnings bring the awful hour 
When wounds and suffering shall give them power. 
Most was he like to Luther, gay and great. 

Solemn and mirthful, strong of heart and limb. 
Tender and simple too; he was so near 
To all things human that he cast out fear, 

And, ever simpler, like a little child. 

Lived in unconscious nearness unto Him 
Who always on earth's little ones hath smiled. 

S. Weik Mitchell 



[111] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

THERE is no name in all our country's story 
So loved as his to-day : 
No name that so unites the things of glory 
With life's plain, common way. 

Poor as the poorest were his days' beginnings, 

The earth-floored cabin home. 
And yet, compared with his, our rich men's winnings 

Are fleeting as the foam. 

His was a tragedy such deeps concealing 

All eyes with his grow dim. 
And his a humour so sincerely healing 

The whole world laughs with him. 

He knew the doubter's doubt, the restless heaving 

Of the swift waves of youth. 
He knew the calm of faith, the strong believing 

Of him who lives the truth. 

So manifold his life, the great-souled Lincoln 

Makes every life his own. 
Therefore of all our heroes whom we think on 

He has a place alone. 

Robert Wiiitaker 

[112] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

HIS was the woodsman's nigged frame, 
A knightly spirit bold, 
The simple ways and studious tastes 

Of anchorites of old. 
His heart was tender with a love 

For all humanity; 
He heard the wailing of the slaves 
And yearned to set them free. 

N'o honest labour ever shamed 

His spirit sound and true; 
That which lay nearest to his hand 

He never failed to do; 
Through hardship, toil and bitter pain 

He walked, serenely brave, 
The narrow upward path that led 

To glory and the grave. 

Though many a year above his dust 

Has shed its suns and rains, 
A pattern still for all the world 

His memory remains. 
And laurel wreath and martyr's crown 

Around his name are blent. 
And every black he freed is now 

His living monument. 

Minna Irvhstg 
[113] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

HURT was the nation with a mighty wound, 
And all her ways were filled with clam'rous sound. 
Wailed loud the South with unremitting grief, 
And wept the l^orth that could not find relief. 
Then madness joined its harshest tone to strife; 
A minor note swelled in the song of life 
Till, stirring with the love that filled his breast, 
But still unflinching at the right's behest 
Grave Lincoln came, strong-handed, from afar, — 
The mighty Homer of the lyre of war ! 
'Twas he who bade the raging tempest cease. 
Wrenched from his harp the harmony of peace. 
Muted the strings that made the discord, — Wrong, 
And gave his spirit up in thuud'rous song. 
Oh, mighty Master of the mighty lyre ! 
Earth heard and trembled at thy strains of fire: 
Earth learned of thee what Heav'n already knew. 
And wrote thee down among her treasured few! 

Paul Laurence Dunbar 



[114] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

YOISr red orb, in fame's azure bung, 
Is Alexander's; flushed and young 
The Sword of Macedon 
In world-wars long agone. 

Beyond it, poised w^bere no clouds are, 
Flasbes, alone, the cold keen star 
Of Csesar, where it clomb 
High over seven-billed Rome; 

Shine next, as naked greatness can, 
The rival lights of Charlemagne 
And that fair Saxon king 
Who knew no wicked thing. 

Brave stars, against the darkness bold 
Shine for the mighty men of old, 
Who, as the strength was given. 
Leapt into memory's heaven. 

But be that never thought to climb. 
Our crownless king, of later time, 
Who walked the humble way, 
Coming as comes the day ; 



[115] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN— [ Continued] 

He that, for kings and princes all, 
Would once more read the mystic wall, — 
Spell ont, there, what was meant 
Whereso the Finger went; 

He that, over the anvil lowered. 

Would beat the ploughshare from the sword, 

Lest peace from man depart. 

Yea, hope from out his heart; — 

Earth held to him. The rough-hewn form. 
Looming through that unnatural storm, 
Hinted the rude, mixed mould 
Ere chaos loosed her hold ; 

A lone, wind-beaten, hill-top tree. 
His that pathetic majesty; 
Eorlorn even in his mirth, 
His roots deep in the earth. 

Earth's is he yet. When from the hill 
The warm gold flows, and hollows fill, 
The sunlight shines his fame, 
The winds blaze Lincoln's name. 

Ay, Earth's he is ; not hers alone — 
Blood of our blood, bone of our bone, 
I Love folded him to rest 
Upon a people's breast. 

John Vance Cheney 
[116] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

CHILD of the boundless prairie, son of the virgin 
soil, 
Heir to the bearing of burdens, brother to them that toil ; 
God and Nature together shaped him to lead in the van, 
In the stress of her wildest weather when the Nation 
needed a Man. 

Eyes of a smouldering fire, heart of a lion at bay. 
Patience to plan for to-morrow, valour to serve for to-day. 
Mournful and mirthful and tender, quick as a flash with a 

jest, 
Hiding with gibe and great laughter, the ache that was 

dull in his breast! 

Met were the Man and the Hour — Man who was strong 

for the shock — 
Fierce were the lightnings unleashed; in the midst, he 

stood fast as a rock. 
Comrade he was and commander he, who was meant for 

the time. 
Iron in council and action, simple, aloof, and sublime. 

Swift slip the years from their tether, centuries pass like 

a breath. 
Only some lives are immortal, challenging darkness and 

death. 

[117] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Con «n wed] 

Hevm from the stuff of the martyrs, write in the star- 
dust his name, 

Glowing, untarnished, transcendent, high on the records 
of Fame. 

Margaret E. Sangster 



[118] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE PEOPLE'S KING 

NOT oft such marvel the years reveal, 
Such beauteous thing, 
A People's King, 
The chosen liege of a chosen weal, 
And Liberty's offering. 

'Not oft such product the fair world hath, 

A People's Own, 

On mightiest throne. 
Whose strong foundations are Right and Faith, 

And virtue the corner-stone. 

ITot by earth's bounty was he prepared; 

Not princely store 

!Nor golden lore 
"Was nurture on which his nature fared 

For strength in the trust he bore; 

But inner largess of revenue. 

Past time and space. 

The fruits of grace. 
That mellowed upon the tree which grew 

God's food for a famished race. 

[119] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE PEOPLE'S KING— [Continued] 

In history's mirror he truly saw 
The ages' strife, 
With passion rife, 
'Neath covenant promise a changeless law 
Writ clear in its serial life. 

He learned from the centuries' battle-fields 

What heroes are, 

How maim and scar 
Are gloried trophies to him who yields 

Himself to the shocks of war; 

That patriot sires have taught their sons, 

Since days of eld, 

How Truth is held. 
And Justice fashions a nation's guns 

Never to be repelled. 

Thus was it a purpose for valiant deeds, 

Like whitening flame. 

Through all his frame 
Swept burning until his Country's needs 

His one great thought became. 

Thus was it he took in his sovereign hand, 

With face to Fate, 

The orb of state, 
To serve his Country and God, and stand 

To them all consecrate. 

Lyman Whitney Allen 
[120] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

WE mark the lowly place where he was born, 
We try to dream the dreams that starred his nights 
When the rude path that ran beside the corn 

Grew to a fair broad way which found the heights ; 
We try to sense the lonely days he knew, 

The silences that wrapped about his soul 
When there came whispers tremulous and true 
Which urged him up and onward to his goal. 



His was the dream-filled world of friendly trees; 

And marvel reaches of the prairie lands; 
The brotherhood of fields, and birds, and bees, 

Which magnifies the soul that understands; 
His was the school of unremitting toil 

Whose lessons leave an impress strong and deep; 
His were the thoughts of one close to the soil, 

The knowledge of the ones who sow and reap. 



And all of this, and from all this he rose 

Full panoplied, when came his country's call, 

Strong-hearted and strong-framed to bear the woes 
Which fell on him the bitterest of all. 

[121] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN— [ Continued] 

And well he wrought, and wisely well he knew 

The strain and stress that should be his alone; 
He did the long task set for him to do — 

This man who came unfavoured and unknown. 

We look to-day, not through Grief's mist of tears, 

'Not through glamour of nearness to the great, 
But down the long, long corridor of years 

Where stand the sentinels of Fame and Fate, 
And now we see him, whom men called uncouth. 

Grown wondrous fair beneath the hand of Time, 
And know the love of liberty and truth 

Brings immortality, and makes sublime. 

But, O, this rugged face with kindly eyes 

Wherein a haunting sorrow ever stays ! 
Somehow it seems that through the sorrow rise 

The echoed visions of his other days. 
That still we may in subtle fancy trace 

The light that led him with prophetic gleams — 
That here we gaze upon the pictured face 

Of one who was a boy that lived his dreams ! 

WiLBUE D. Nesbit 



[122] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE NATION'S PROPHET 

THE hour was come, and with it rose the man 
Ordained of God and fashioned for the hour; 
The saviour of a race; 
For whom wrought ever, since the world began, 
The subtle energies of thought and power 
In lineal lines of grace. 

Incarnate Conscience; Right's embodiment; 
Benignant Nature's generous bequest 
In mind and feature writ; 
Life's lore and legends into wisdom blent; 

Past verities to present truth compressed; 
The People's composite. 

A master-soul was his that gazing saw 

The refluent tide of battle, felt the fires 
That swept all withering; 
A master-soul, set to a higher law, 

That heard above the Earth's despairing, quires 
Of heavenly promise sing. 

Lyman Whitney Allen 



[123] 



THE BOOK OF IJNCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

THIS man whose homely face you look upon 
Was one of N"ature's masterful, great men ; 
Born with strong arms, that unf ought battles won; 
Direct of speech, and cunning with the pen. 
Chosen for large designs, he had the art 
Of winning with his humour, and he went 
Straight to his mark, which was the human heart; 
Wise, too, for what he could not break he bent. 
Upon his back a more than Atlas-load 
The burden of the Commonwealth, was laid; 
He stooped, and rose up to it, though the road 
Shot suddenly downwards, not a whit dismayed: 
Patiently resolute, what the stern hour 
Demanded, that ho was, — that Man, that Power. 
RiCHAED Henry Stoddaed 



[124] 



V. GETTYSBURG ODE 



"It is rather for lis to he here dedicated to the great 
task remaining before us — that from these honoured dead 
we take increased devotion to that cause for which they 
gave the last full measure of devotion" 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE 

Dedication of the National Monument, July 1, 1869 

AFTER the eyes that looked, the lips that spake 
Here, from the shadows of impending death, 
Those words of solemn breath, 
What voice may fitly break 
The silence, doubly hallowed, left by him? 
We can but bow the head, with eyes grown dim, 

And, as a Nation's litany, repeat 
The phrase his martyrdom hath made complete, 
!Noble as then, but now more sadly-sweet: 
"Let us, the Living, rather dedicate 
Ourselves to the unfinished work, which they 
Thus far advanced so nobly on its way, 
And save the perilled State! 
Let us, upon this field where they, the brave, 
Their last full measure of devotion gave. 
Highly resolve they have not died in vain! — 
That, under God, the Nation's later birth 

Of Freedom, and the people's gain 
Of their own Sovereignty, shall never wane 
And perish from the circle of the earth !" 
From such a perfect text, shall Song aspire 
To light her faded fire, 

[127] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE— [Continued] 

And into wandering music turn 

Its virtue, simple, sorrowful, and stern? 

His voice all elegies anticipated ; 

For, whatsoe'er the strain, * 

We hear that one refrain : ^ 

''We consecrate ourselves to them, the Consecrated!" i 

I 

t 

After the thunder-storm our heaven is blue: | 

Far-off, along the borders of the sky, f 

In silver folds the clouds of battle lie, 

With soft, consoling sunlight shining through; 

And round the sweeping circle of your hills 
The crashing cannon-thrills 

Have faded from the memory of the air; 

And Summer pours from unexhausted fountains 
Her bliss on yonder mountains: 

The camps are tenantless, the breastworks bare: 

Earth keeps no stain where hero-blood was poured : 
The hornets, humming on their wings of lead, 
Have ceased to sting, their angi-y sw\arms are dead, 

And, harmless in its scabbard, rusts the sword! 

O, not till now, — now we dare, at last, 

To give our heroes fitting consecration! 
!N"ot till the soreness of the strife is past, 

And Peace hath comforted the weary l^ation ! 
So long her sad, indignant spirit held 
One keen regret, one throb of pain, unquelled; 

[128] 




bTATUE OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN BY DANIEL CHESTER FRENCH 
ON THE STATE CAPITOL GROUNDS, LINCOLN, NEBRASKA 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE— [Continued] 

So long the land about her feet was waste, 

The ashes of the burning lay upon her. 
We stood beside their graves with brows abased, 

Waiting the purer mood to do them honour! 
They, through the flames of this dread holocaust, 
The patriot's wrath, the soldier's ardour lost: 
They sit above us and above our passion, 

.Disparaged even by our human tears, — 
Beholding truth our race, perchance, may fashion 

In the slow process of the creeping years. 
V\''e saw the still reproof upon their faces; 
We heard them whisper from the shining spaces : 
"To-day ye grieve : come not to us with sorrow ! 
Wait for the glad, the reconciled To-morrow! 
Your grief but clouds the ether where we dwell; 

Your anger keeps your souls and ours apart : 
But come with peace and pardon, all is well! 

And come with love, we touch you, heart to heart!" 



Immortal Brothers, we have heard! 
Our lips declare the reconciling word : 
For Battle taught, that set us face to face, ' 

The stubborn temper of the race, 
And both, from fields no longer alien, come, 

To grander action equally invited, — 
Marshalled by Learning's trump, by Labour's drum, 

In strife that purifies and makes united! 

[129] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE— [Continued] 

We force to build, the powers that would destroy ; 

The muscles, hardened by the sabre's grasp, 

Now give our hands a firmer clasp : 
We bring not grief to you, but solemn joy ! 

And, feeling you so near, 
Look forward with your eyes, divinely clear, 
To some sublimely-perfect, sacred year, 
When sons of fathers whom ye overcame 
Forget in mutual pride the partial blame, 
And join with us, to set the final crown 

Upon your dear renown, — 
The People's Union in heart and name ! 

And yet, ye Dead! — and yet 
Our clouded natures cling to one regret : 
We are not all resigned 
To yield, with even mind, 
Our scarcely-risen stars, that here untimely set. 
We needs must think of History that waits 

For lines that live but in their proud beginning, — 
Arrested promises and cheated fates, — 

Youth's boundless venture and its single winning ! 
We see the ghosts of deeds they might have done. 

The phantom homes that beaconed their endeavour; 
The seeds of countless lives in them begun. 

That might have multiplied for us forever ! 
We grudge the better strain of men 
That proved itself, and was extinguished then — 

[130] 



J 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE— [Continued] 

The field, with strength and hope so thickly sown, 
Wherefrom no other harvest shall be mown: 
For all the land, within its clasping seas, 

Is poorer now in bravery and beauty, 
Such wealth of manly loves and energies 
Was given to teach us all the freeman's sacred duty ! 



Again 'tis the}', the Dead, 

By whom our hearts are comforted. 
Deep as the land-blown murmurs of the waves 
The answer cometh from a thousand graves: 

^'Not so ! we are not orphaned by our fate ! 
Though life were warmest, and though love were sweetest. 
We still have portion in their best estate: 

Our fortune is the fairest and completest! 
Our homes are everywhere: our loves are set 

In hearts of man and woman, sweet and vernal : 
Courage and Truth, the children we beget. 

Unmixed of baser earth, shall be eternal. 
A finer spirit in the blood shall give 
The token of the lines wherein we live, — 
Unselfish force, unconscious nobleness 

That in the shocks of fortune stands unshaken, — 
The hopes that in their very being bless. 

The aspirations that to deeds awaken! 
If aught of finer virtue ye allow 

To us, that faith alone its like shall win you ; 

[131] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE— [Continued^ 

So, trust like ours shall ever lift the brow ; 

And strength like ours shall ever steel the sinew! 
We are the blossoms which the storm has cast 
From the Spring promise of our Freedom's tree, 
Pruning its overgrowths, that so, at last, 

Its later fruit more bountiful shall be ! — 
Content, if, when the balm of Time assuages 
The branch's hurt, some fragrance of our lives 

In all the land survives. 
And makes their memory sweet through still expanding 
ages !" 

Thus grandly, they we mourn, themselves console us; 

And, as their spirits conquer and control us, 

We hear, from some high realm that lies beyond, 

The hero-voices of the Past respond. 

From every State that reached a broader right 

Through fiery gates of battle; from the shock 

Of old invasions on the People's rock ; 

From tribes that stood, in Kings' and Priests' despite ; 

From graves forgotten in the Syrian sand, 

Or nameless barrows of the Northern strand, 

Or gorges of the Alps and Pyrenees, 

Or the dark bowels of devouring seas, — 

Wherever Man for Man's sake died, — wherever 

Death stayed the march of upward-climbing feet, 

Leaving their Present incomplete. 
But through far Futures crowning their endeavour, — 

[132] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE— [Continued] 

Their ghostly voices to our ears are sent, 

As when the high note of a trumpet wrings 

^olian answers from the strings 
Of many a mute, unfingered instrument! 
Platscan cymbals thrill for us to-day ; 
The horns of Sempach in our echoes play, 
And nearer yet, and sharper, and more stern. 
The slogan rings that startled Bannockburn; 
Till from the field, made green with kindred deed, 

The shields are clashed in exultation 
Above the dauntless Nation, 
That for a Continent has fought its Runn^nnede! 



Aye, for a Continent! The heart that beats 

With such rich blood of sacrifice 
Shall, from the Tropics, drowsed with languid heats, 

To the blue ramparts of the Northern ice. 
Make felt its pulses, all this young world over! — 
Shall thrill, and shake, and sway 
Each land that bourgeons in the Western day, 
Whatever flag may float, whatever shield may cover! 
With fuller manhood every wind is rife, 

In every soil are sown the seeds of valour; 
Since out of death came forth such boundless life. 
Such ruddy beauty out of anguished pallor ! 
And that first deed, along the Southern wave, 
Spoiled not the sister-land, but lent an arm to save! 

[133] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE— [Continued] 

Now, in her seat secure, 
Where distant menaces no more can reach her. 

Our land, in undivided freedom pure, 
Becomes the unwilling world's unconscious teacher; 
And, day by day, beneath serener skies, 
The unshaken pillars of her palace rise, — 
The Doric shafts, that lightly upward press. 
And hide in grace their giant massiveness. 
And what though the sword has hewn each corner- 
stone. 

And precious blood cements the deep foundation ! 
Never by other force have empires grown; 

From other basis never rose a nation! 
For strength is born of struggle, faith of doubt. 

Of discord law, and freedom of oppression: 
We hail from Pisgah, with exulting shout, 
The Promised Land below us, bright with sun, 

And deem its pastures won, 
Ere toil and blood have earned us their possession ! 
Each aspiration of our human earth 
Becomes an act through keenest pangs of birth ; 
Each force, to bless, must cease to be a dream. 
And conquer life through agony supreme; 
Each inborn right must outwardly be tested 

By stern material weapons, ere it stand 

In the enduring fabric of the land, 
Secured for these who yielded it, and those who wrested ! 

[134] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



GETTYSBURG ODE— [Con/ mw erf] 

This they have done for us who slumber here, — 

Awake, alive, though now so dumbly sleeping; 
Spreading the board, but tasting not its cheer, 

Sowing, but never reaping; — 
Building, but never sitting in the shade 
Of the strong mansion they have made ; — 
Speaking their word of life with mighty tongue, 
But hearing not the echo, million-voiced, 

Of brothers who rejoiced, 
From all our river vales and mountains flung! 
So take them, Heroes of the songi'ul Past ! 
Open your ranks, let every shining troop 

Its phantom banners droop. 

To hail Earth's noblest martyrs, and her last! 

Take them, O Fatherland ! 

Who, dying, conquered in thy name; 

And, with a grateful hand. 
Inscribe their deed who took away thy blame, — 
Give, for their grandest all, thine insufficient fame! 
Take them, O God ! our Brave, 
The glad fulfillers of Thy dread decree ; 
Who grasped the sword for Peace, and smote to save, 
And, dying here for Freedom, also died for Thee ! 

Bayaed Taylok 



[135] 



VI. LINCOLN MOURNED 



''And you, the soldiers of our wars, 
Bronzed veterans, grim with nohle scars. 
Salute him once again. 
Your late com^nander — slain!" 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE DEATH OF LINCOLN 

OH, slow to smite and swift to spare, 
Gentle and merciful and just ! 
Who, in the fear of God, didst bear 

The sword of power, a nation's trust! 

In sorrow by thy bier we stand, 

Amid the awe that hushes all. 
And speak the anguish of a land 

That shook with horror at thy fall. 

Thy task is done ; the bond are free : 

We bear thee to an honoured grave, 

Whose proudest monument shall be 
The broken fetters of the slave. 

Pure was thy life; its bloody close 

Hath placed thee with the sons of light, 

Among the noble host of those 

Who perished in the cause of Right. 

William Ccllex Bryant 



[139] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

Assassinated Good Friday, 1865 

FORGIVE them, for they know not what they do!" 
He said, and so went shriven to his fate, — 
Unknowing went, that generous heart and true. 

Even while he spoke the slayer lay in wait, 

And when the morning opened Heaven's gate 
There passed the whitest soul a nation knew. 

Henceforth all thoughts of pardon are too late; 
They, in whose cause that arm its weapon drew. 

Have murdered Mercy. ISTow alone shall stand 
Blind Justice, with the sword unsheathed she wore. 

Hark, from the eastern to the western strand. 
The swelling thunder of the people's roar : 

What words they murmur, — Fetter not her hand I 
So let it smite ; such deeds shall be no more ! 

Edmund Clarence Stedman 



[140] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE DEAD PRESIDENT 

WERE there no crowns on earth, 
ISTo evergreen to weave a hero's wreath, 
That he must pass beyond the gates of death, 
Our hero, our slain hero, to be crowned? 
Could there on our unworthy earth be found 
taught to befit his worth? 

The noblest soul of all ! 
When was there ever, since our Washington, 
A man so pure, so wise, so patient — one 
Who walked with this high goal alone in sight, 
To speak, to do, to sanction only Right, 

Though very heaven should fall! 

Ah, not for him we weep; 
What honour more could be in store for him? 
Who would have had him linger in our dim 
And troublesome world, when his great work was 

done — 
Who would not leave that worn and weary on© 

Gladly to go to sleep ? 

For us the stroke was just ; 
We were not worthy of that patient heart; 

[141] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE DEAD PKESIDENT— [Co«*iMt*€(f] 

We might have helped him more, not stood apart, 
And coldly criticised his works and ways — 
Too late now, all too late — our little praise 
Sounds hollow o'er his dust. 

Be merciful, our God! 
Forgive the meanness of our human hearts, 
That never, till a noble soul departs, 
See half the worth, or hear the angel's wings 
Till they go rustling heavenward as he springs 

Up from the mounded sod. 

Yet what a deathless crown 
Of ^Northern pine and Southern orange-flower, 
For victory, and the land's new bridal hour, 
Would we have wreathed for that beloved brow ! 
Sadly upon his sleeping forehead now 

We lay our cypress down. 

O martyred one, farewell ! 
Thou hast not left thy people quite alone, 
Out of thy beautiful life there comes a tone 
Of power, of love, of trust, a prophecy, 
Whose fair fulfilment all the earth shall be, 

And all the future tell. 

Edwaed Rowland Sill 



[142] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

LUTCOL]^! When men would name a man, 
Just, unperturbed, magnanimous, 
Tried in the lowest seat of all, 

Tried in the chief seat of the house — 

Lincoln! When men would name a man 

Wlio wrought the great work of his age, 
Who fought and fought the noblest fight, 

And marshalled it from stage to stage, 

.Victorious, out of dusk and dark. 

And into dawn and on till day, 
Most humble when the paeans rang, 

Least rigid when the enemy lay 

Prostrated for his feet to tread — 

This name of Lincoln will they name, 
A name revered, a name of scorn, 
Of scorn to sundry, not to fame. 

Lincoln, the man who freed the slave; 

Lincoln, whom never self enticed ; 
Slain Lincoln, worthy found to die 

A soldier of his Captain, Christ. 

Anonymous 

Macmillan's Magazine, 
London, 1865. 

[143] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



N 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

An Horation Ode 

OT as when some great Captain falls 
In battle, where his Country calls, 
Beyond the struggling lines 
That push his dread designs 



To doom, by some stray ball struck dead : 
Or, in the last charge, at the head 
Of his determined men, 
Who must be victors then. 

!Nor as when sink the civic gi-eat. 
The safer pillars of the State, 

Whose calm, mature, wise words 
Suppress the need of swords. 

With no such tears as e'er were shed 
Above the noblest of our dead 
Do we to-day deplore 
The Man that is no more. 

©ur sorrow hath a wider scope, 
Too strange for fear, too vast for hope, 
A wonder, blind and dumb. 
That waits — what is to come! 
[144] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Contimied] 

!N^ot more astounded had we been 
If Madness, that dark night, unseen, 
Had in our chambers crept, 
And murdered while we slept ! 

We woke to find a mourning earth, 
Our Lares shivered on the hearth, 
The roof -tree fallen, all 
That could affright, appal ! 

Such thunderbolts, in other lands, 
Have smitten the rod from royal hands. 
But spared, with us, till now. 
Each laurelled Caesar's brow. 

No Csesar he whom we lament, 
A Man without a precedent. 
Sent, it would seem, to do 
His work, and perish, too. 

Not by the weary cares of State, 
The endless tasks, which will not wait, 
Which, often done in vain. 
Must yet be done again : 

Not in the dark, wild tide of war. 
Which rose so high, and rolled so far. 

Sweeping from sea to sea 

In awful anarchy: 



[145] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LmCOL^;— [Continued] 

Four fateful years of mortal strife, 
Which slowly drained the nation's life, 
(Yet for each drop that ran 
There sprang an armed man ! ) 

"Not then ; but when, by measures meet, 

By victory, and by defeat, 

By courage, patience, skill. 
The people's fixed "We Will!" 

Had pierced, had crushed Rebellion dead, 
Without a hand, without a head, 

At last, when all was well, 

He fell, O how he fell! 

The time, the place, the stealing shape. 
The coward shot, the swift escape, 

The wife, the widow's scream — 

It is a hideous dream ! 

A dream ! What means this pageant, then ? 

These multitudes of solemn men. 
Who speak not when they meet, 
But throng the silent street? 

The flags half-mast that late so high 
Flaunted at each new victory? 
(The stars no brightness shed. 
But bloody looks the red!) 
[14G] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Cotifinnerf] 

The black festoons that stretch for miles, 
And turn the streets to funeral aisles ? 
(No house too poor to show 
The nation's hadge of wo.) 

The cannon's sudden, sullen boom, 
The bells that toll of death and doom, 
The rolling of the drums, 
The dreadful car that comes ? 

Cursed be the hand that fired the shot, 
The frenzied brain that hatched the plot. 
Thy Country's Father slain 
By thee, thou worse than Cain ! 

Tyrants have fallen by such as thou, 
And good hath followed — may it now ! 

(God lets bad instruments 

Produce the best events.) 

But he, the man we mourn to-day, 
No tyrant was : so mild a sway 

In one such weight who bore 

Was never known before. 

Cool should he be, of balanced powers, 

The ruler of a race like ours, 

Impatient, headstrong, wild, 
The Man to guide the Child, 

[147] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Continued] 

And this he was, who most unfit 
(So hard the sense of God to hit) 
Did seem to fill his place. 
With such a homely face, 

Such rustic manners, speech uncouth, 
(That somehow blundered out the truth) 
Untried, untrained to bear 
The more than kingly care. 

Ay ! And his genius put to scorn 
The proudest in the purple born, 
Whose wisdom never grew 
To what, untaught, he knew, 

The People, of whom he was one. 

Ko gentleman, like Washington 

(Whose bones, methinks, make room, 
To have him in their tomb!) 

A labouring man, with horny hands. 
Who swung the axe, who tilled his lands, 

Who shrank from nothing new. 

But did as poor men do. 

One of the People ! Born to be 

Their curious epitome; 

To share yet rise above 
Their shifting hate and love. 
[148] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LmCOLN— [Continued] 

Common his mind (it seemed so then) 
His thoughts the thoughts of other men: 

Plain were his words, and poor, 

But now they will endure ! 

"No hasty fool, of stubborn will, 
But prudent, cautious, pliant still; 

Who since his work was good 

Would do it as he could. 

Doubting, was not ashamed to doubt, 
And, lacking prescience, went without: 
Often appeared to halt. 
And was, of course, at fault; 

Heard all opinions, nothing loath. 
And, loving both sides, angered both : 
Was — not like Justice, blind. 
But watchful, clement, kind. 

No hero this of Eoman mould, 
N^or like our stately sires of old: 
Perhaps he was not gTeat, 
But he preserved the State! 

O honest face, which all men knew! 
O tender heart, but known to few ! 

O wonder of the age. 

Cut off by tragic rage ! 

[149] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Contimied] 

Peace! Let the long procession come, 
Foi';, hark, the mournful, muffled drum, 
The trumpet's wail afar, 
And see, the awful car! 

Peace ! Let the sad procession go, 
While cannon boom and bells toll slow, 

And go, thou sacred car. 

Bearing our wo afar ! 

Go, darkly borne, from State to State, 
Whose loyal, sorrowing cities wait 
To honour all they can 
The dust of that good man. 

Go, grandly borne, with such a train . 

As greatest kings might die to gain. 
The just, the wise, the brave. 
Attend thee to the grave. 

And you, the soldiers of our wars, 
Bronzed veterans, grim with noble scars, 
Salute him once again. 
Your late commander — slain ! 

Yes, let your tears indignant fall. 
But leave your muskets on the wall ; 
Your country needs you now 
Beside the forge — the plough. 
[1,-0] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Continued] 

(WTien Justice shall imsheatlie her brand, 
If Mercy may not stay her hand, 

I^or would we have it so, 

She must direct the blow.) 

'And you, amid the master-race, 
iWho seem so strangely out of place, 

Know ye who cometh ? He 

Who hath declared ye free. 

Bow while tie* body passes — nay, 
Fall on youi knees and weep, and pray ! 
Weep, weep — I would ye might — 
Your poor black faces white! 

'And, children, j^ou must come in bands, 
With garlands in your little hands. 

Of blue and white and red, 

To strew before the dead. 

So sweetly, sadly, sternly goes 
The Fallen to his last repose. 

Beneath no mighty dome. 

But in his modest home; 

The churchyard where his children rest. 
The quiet spot that suits him best, 

There shall his grave be made. 

And there his bones be laiJ 

[151] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [ Con t inued] 

And there his countrymen shall come, 
With memory proud, with pity dumb, 

And strangers far and near, 

For many and many a year. 

For many a year and many an age, 
While History on her ample page 

The virtues shall enrol 

Of that Paternal Soul. 

RiCHAED HeNEY StODDAED 

r- 



[152] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

Foully assassinated, April 14, 1865 

rOU lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier, 
You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace, 
Broad for the self-complacent British sneer. 

His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face, 

His gaunt, gnarled ^ands, his unkempt, bristling hair, 
His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease, 

His lack of all we prize as debonair. 

Of power or will to shine, of art to please. 

You, whose smart pen backed up the pencil's laugh, 
Judging each step as though the way were plain: 

Reckless, so it could point its paragraph, 
Of chief's perplexity, or people's pain. 

Beside this corpse, that bears for winding-sheet 
The Stars and Stripes he lived to rear anew, 

Between the mourners at his head and feet. 
Say, scurril- jester, is there room for you? 

Yes, he had lived to shame me from my sneer. 
To lame my pencil and confute my pen — 

To make me own this hind of princes peer. 
This rail-splitter a true-born king of men. 

[153] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Continued] 

My shallow judgement I had learnt to rue, 

^Noting how to occasion's height he rose, 
How his quaint wit made home-truths seem more true, 

How, iron-like, his temper grew by blows. 

How humble yet how hopeful he could be: 
How in good fortune and in ill the same: 

Nor bitter in success, nor boastful he. 

Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for fame. 

He went about his work — such work as few 

Ever had laid on head and heart and hand — 

As one who knows, where there's a task to do, 

Man's honest will must Heaven's good grace com- 
mand; 

Who trusts the strength will with the burden grow. 
That God makes instruments to work His will, 

If but that will we can contrive to know, 

!Nor tamper with the weights of good and ilk 

So he went forth to battle, on the side 

That he felt clear was Liberty's and Right's, 

As in his peasant boyhood ho had plied 

His warfare with rude Nature's thwarting mights — 

The uncleared forest, the unbroken soil, 

The iron-bark, that turns the lumberer's axe. 

The rapid, that o'crbears the boatman's toil, 

The prairie, hiding the mazed wanderer's tracks, 
[154] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [ Con tituicd] 

The ambushed Indian, and the prowling bear- 
Such were the needs that helped his youth to train: 

Rough culture — but such trees lai-ge fruit may bear, 
If but their stocks be of right girth and grain. 

So he grew up, a destined work to do, 

And lived to do it: four long-suffering years' 

Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived through, 

And then he heard the hisses change to cheers, 

The taunts to tribute ,the abuse to praise. 

And took both -With the same unwavering mood : 

Till, as he came on light, from darkling days. 

And seemed to touch the goal from where he stood, 

A felon hand, between the goal and him. 

Reached from behind his back, a trigger prest, — 

And those perplexed and patient eyes were dim, 

Those gaunt, long-labouring limbs were laid to rest ! 

The words of mercy were upon his lips, 

Forgiveness in his heart and on his pen, 

When this vile murderer brought swift eclipse 

To thoughts of peace on earth, good-will to men. 

The Old World and the New, from sea to sea. 
Utter one voice of sympathy and shame! 

Sore heart, so stopped when it at last beat high, 
Sad life, cut short just as its triumph came. 

[155] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Continited] 

A deed accurst ! Strokes liave been struck before 

By the assassin's hand, whereof men doubt 
If more of horror or disgrace they bore ; 

But thy foul crime, like Caix's, stands darkly out, 

Vile hand, that brandest murder on a strife, 

Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and nobly striven; 

And with the martyr's crown crownest a life 
With much to praise, little to be forgiven! 

Tom Taylor 



'Punch" London, May G, J 865. 



In reference to the long controversy over the authorship of the 
foregoing famous recantation — which crops out periodically even 
to this day — it may be interesting to those who have not seen the 
book Shirley Brooks of Punch, by Greorge Somes Layard (Henry 
Holt & Co., 1907), to hear that he has quite authoritatively settled 
the question. This he was asked to do when he undertook the work. 
Pages 241-247 adequately cover the matter. For those to whom the 
book may not be accessible, the following quotations are made: 

From Shirley's diary of May 10, 1865, p. 245: 

"Dined Pwnch, all there. Let out my views against some verses 
on Lincoln in which T. T. (Tom Taylor) had not only made Punch 
eat umbles pie but swallow dish and all. P. L. (Percival Leigh) 
and J. T. (John Tenniel) with me." 

Mr. Layard comments on the above: "So there was the answer 
to the burning question in Shirley's o\vn handwriting. So far, in- 
deed, from being the writer of the verses, he most heartily con- 
demned their publication." 

[156] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LmCOLN— [Continued] 

On p. 247 thia: "Later Mr. Silver (secretary of the Punch club) 
at my request looked up his record of the aforesaid Punch dinner 
and found the following: 

"Shirley protests against Tom Taylor's lines on Lincoln. 'Punch 
has not been blind and shallow/ he declared indignantly, 'and even 
if it had, we ought not to own it. Would you have written the 
lines, Leigh?' 

" 'I ! No, I should think not, indeed,' says Leigh, Thereupon 
Mark Lemon totally disagrees with them both. 

" 'The avowal,' he says, 'that we have been a bit mistaken is 
manly and just.' " 



[157] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! 

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, 
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we 
sought is won, 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exult- 
ing, 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and 
daring ; 

But O heart ! heart ! heart ! 
O the bleeding drops of red. 

Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 



O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; 
Kise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle 

trills, 
Eor you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths — for you the shores 

a-crowding, 
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces 
turning ; 

Here Captain ! dear father ! 
This arm beneath your head! 
It is some dream that on the deck 
You've fallen cold and dead. 
[158] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN!— [Cow fin wed] 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, 
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, 
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and 

done, 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object 
won; 

Exult O shores, and ring O bells ! 
But I with mournful tread, 

Walk the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead. 

Walt Whitman" 



[159] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



HUSH'D BE THE CAMPS TO-DAY 

HUSH'D be the camps to-day, 
And, soldiers, let us drape our war-worn weapons. 
And each with musing soul retire to celebrate 
Our dear commander's death. 

No more for him life's stormy conflicts, 

'Not victory, nor defeat — no more time's dark events, 

Charging like ceaseless clouds across the sky. 

But sing, poet, in our name. 

Sing of the love we bore him — because you, dweller in 
camps, know it truly. 

As they invault the coffin there. 

Sing — as they close the doors of earth upon him — one 

verse. 
For the heavy hearts of soldiers. 

Walt Whitmaist 



[160] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THIS DUST WAS ONCE THE MAN 

THIS dust was once the man, 
Gentle, plain, just and resolute, under whose cau- 
tious hand, 
Against the foulest crime in history known in any land 

or age, 
Was saved the Union of these States. 

Walt Whitman 



[161] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D 

\ ^ T^EN lilacs last in the dooryard bloom' d, 
V ▼ And the great star early droop'd in the western 
sky in the night, 
I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning 
spring. 

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring, 
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west, 
And thought of him I love. 

O powerful western fallen star! 

O shades of night — O moody, tearful night! 

O great star disappear'd — O the black murk that hides 

the star! 
O cruel hands that hold mc powerless — helpless soul 

of me ! 
harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul. 

In the dooryard fronting an old farm-house near the 

white-wash'd palings. 
Stands the lilac bush tall-growing with heart-shaped leaves 

of rich green. 
With many a pointed blossom rising delicate, with the 

perfume strong I love. 
With every leaf a miracle — and from this bush in the 
dooryard, 
[162] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN- LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D— 

[Contimied] 

With delicate-colour'd blossoms and heart-shaped leaves 

of rich green, 
A sprig with its flower I break. 

In the swamp in secluded recesses, 

A shy and hidden bird is warbling a song. 

Solitary the thrush, 

The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settler 

ments, 
Sings by himself a song. 

Song of the bleeding throat, 

Death's outlet song of life, (for well dear brother I know, 

If thou wast not granted to sing thou wouldst surely die.) 

Over the breast of the spring, the land, amid cities, 

Amid lanes and through old woods, where lately the vio- 
lets peep'd from the ground, spotting the grey 
debris, 

Amid the grass in the fields each side of the lanes, pass- 
ing the endless grass, 

Passing the yellow-spear' d wheat, every grain from its 
shroud in the dark-brown fields uprisen. 

Passing the apple-tree blows of white and pink in the 
orchards. 

Carrying a corpse to where it shall rest in the grave, 

Night and day journeys a coffin. 

[163] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D— 

[Continued] 

Coffin that passes through lanes and streets, 

Through day and night with the great cloud darkening 

the land, 
With the pomp of the inloop'd flags with the cities draped 

in black, 
With the show of the States themselves as of crape-veil'd 

women standing, 
With processions long and winding and the flambeaus of 

the night. 
With the countless torches lit, with the silent sea of 

, faces and the unbared heads, 
With the waiting depot, the arriving coffin, and the sombre 

faces, 
W^ith dirges through the night, with the thousand voices 

rising strong and solemn, * 

With all the mournful voices of the dirges pour'd around 

the coffin, 
The dim-lit churches and the shuddering organs — where 

amid these you journey, 
With the tolling tolling bells' perpetual clang. 
Here, coffin that slowly passes, 
I give you my sprig of lilac. 

(Nor for you, for one alone. 

Blossoms and branches green to coffins all I bring, 
For fresh as the morning, thus would I chant a song for 
you O sane and sacred death. 
[164 J 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D— 

[Continued] 

All over bouquets of roses, 

O death, I cover you over with roses and early lilies, 

But mostly and now the lilac that blooms the first, 

Copious I break, I break the sprigs from the bushes, 

With loaded arms I come, pouring for you, . 

For you and the coffins all of you O death. ) 



O western orb sailing the heaven, 

!Now I know what you must have meant as a month since 

I walk'd, 
As I walk'd in silence the transparent shadowy night, 
As I saw you had something to tell as you bent to me night 

after night, 
As you droop'd from the sky low down as if to my side, 

(while the other stars all look'd on,) 
As we wander'd together the solemn night, (for something 

I know not what kept me from sleep,) 
As the night advanced, and I saw on the rim of the west 

how full you were of wo, 
As I stood on the rising ground in the breeze in the cool 

transparent night, 
As I watch'd where you pass'd and was lost in the nether- 
ward black of the night, 
As my soul in its trouble dissatisfied sank, as where you 

sad orb. 
Concluded, dropt in the night, and was gone. 

[165] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYAED BLOOM'D— 

[Contitmed} 

Sing on there in the swamp, 

singer bashful and tender, I hear your notes, I hear 

your call, 

1 hear, I come presently, I understand you, 

But a moment I linger, for the lustrous star has detain'd 

me. 
The star my departing comrade holds and detains me. 

O how shall I warble myself for the dead one there I 

loved ? 
And how shall I deck my song for the large sweet soul 

that has gone ? 
And what shall my perfume be for the grave of him I love ? 

Sea-winds blown from east and west, 

Blown from the Eastern sea and blown from the Western 

sea, till there on the prairies meeting, 
These and with these and the breath of my chant, 
I'll perfume the grave of him I love. 

O what shall I hang on the chamber walls ? 

And what shall the pictures be that I hang on the walls, 

To adorn the burial-house of him I love? 

Pictures of growing spring and farms and homes, 
With the Fourth-month eve at sundown, and the grey 
smoke lucid and bright, 
[166] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D— 

[Conthmed] 

With floods of the yellow gold of the gorgeous, indolent, 

sinking sun, burning, expanding the air, 
With the fresh sweet herbage under foot, and the pale 

green leaves of the trees prolific. 
In the distance the flowing glaze, the breast of the river, 

with a wind-dapple here and there, 
With ranging hills on the banks, with many a line against 

the sky, and shadows. 
And the city at hand with dwellings so dense, and stacks 

of chimneys. 
And all the scenes of life and the workshops, and the 

workmen homeward returning. 

Lo, body and soul — this land, 

My oAvn Manhattan with spires, and the sparkling and 

hurrying tides, and the ships. 
The varied and ample land, the South and the N^orth in 

the light, Ohio's shores and flashing Missouri, 
And ever the far-spreading prairies cover' d with grass 

and corn. 

Lo, the most excellent sun so calm and haughty, 
The violet and purple morn with just-felt breezes, 
The gentle soft-born measureless light. 
The miracle spreading bathing all, the fulfill'd noon, 
The coming eve delicious, the welcome night and the stars, 
Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land. 

[167] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOMT)— 

[Continued] 

Sing on, sing on you grej-brown bird, 

Sing from the swamps, the recesses, pour your chant from 

the bushes, 
Limitless out of the dusk, out of the cedars and pines. 

Sing on dearest brother, warble your reedy song. 
Loud human song, with voice of uttermost wo. 

O liquid and free and tender! 

O wild and loose to my soul — O wondrous singer ! 

You only I hear — yet the star holds me, (but will soon 

depart,) 
Yet the lilac with mastering odour holds me. 

Now while I sat in the day and look'd forth. 

In the close of the day with its light and the fields of 

spring, and the farmers preparing their crops. 
In the large unconscious scenery of my land with its lakes 

and forests, 
In the heavenly aerial beauty, (after the perturb'd winds 

and the storms,) 
Under the arching heavens of the afternoon swift passing, 

and the voices of children and women. 
The many-moving sea-tides, and I saw the ships how they 

sail'd, 
And the summer approaching with richness, and the fields 

all busy with labour, 
[168J 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D— 

[Contimied] 

And the infinite separate houses, how they all went on, 

each with its meals and minutia of daily usages. 
And the streets how their throbbings throbb'd, and the 

cities pent — lo, then and there, 
Falling upon them all and among them all, enveloping 

me with the rest, 
Appear'd the cloud, appear'd the long black trail, 
And I knew death, its thought, and the sacred knowledge 

of death. 

Then with the knowledge of death as walking one side 

of me. 
And the thought of death close-walking the other side of 

me, 
And I in the middle as with companions, and as holding 

the hands of companions, 
I fled forth to the hiding receiving night that talks not, 
Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp 

in the dimness. 
To the solemn shadowy cedars and ghostly pines so still. 

And the singer so shy to the rest receiv'd me. 

The gi'ey-brown bird I know receiv'd us comrades three, 

And he sang the carol of death, and a verse for him I love. 

From deep secluded recesses. 

From the fragi-ant cedars and the ghostly pines so still, 

Came the carol of the bird. 

[169] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IX THE DOORYAED BLOOM'D— 

[Continued] 

And the charm of the carol rapt me, 

And I held as if by their hands my comrades in the night, 

And the voice of my spirit tallied the song of the bird. 

Come lovely and soothing deaths 

Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving. 

In the day, in the night, to all, to each. 

Sooner or later delicate death. 

Prais'd he the fathomless universe. 

For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious. 
And for love, sweet love — hut praise! praise! praise! 
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death. 

Darh mother always gliding near with soft feet. 
Have none chanted for thee a chant of fullest luelcome? 
Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all, 
I bring thee a song that when thou mu^t indeed come, 
come unfalteringly. 

Approach strong deliveress, 

^Yhen it is so, when thou hast tahen them I joyously sing 

the dead. 
Lost in the loving floating ocean of thee. 
Loved in t!ie flood of thy bliss, death. 

From me to thee glad serenades. 

Dances for thee I propose saluting thee, adornments and 
f eastings for thee, 
[170] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN" LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOjM'D— 

[Continued] 

And the sigJds of the open landscape and the high-spread 

sTcy are fitting. 
And life and the fields^ and the huge and thoughtful night. 

The night in silence under many a star. 

The ocean shore aiul the husky whispering wave whose 

voice I know. 
And the soul turning to thee vast and well-veiVd death. 
And the body gratefidly nestling close to thee. 

Over the tree-tops I float thee a song. 

Over the rising and sinking waves, over the myriad fields 

and the prairies wide. 
Over the dense-pack'd cities all and the teeming wharves 

and ways, 
I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee death. 

To the tally of my soul, 

Loud and strong kept up the grey-brown bird, 

With pure deliberate notes spreading filling the night. 

Loud in the pines and cedars dim, 

Clear in the freshness moist and the swamp-perfume, 

And I with my comrades there in the night. 

While my sight that was bound in my eyes unclosed, 
As to long panoramas of visions. 

[in] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYAKD BLOOM'D— 

[Contirmed] 

And I saw askant the armies, 

I saw as in noiseless dreams hundreds of battle-flags, 

Borne through the smoke of the battles and pierc'd with 

missiles I saw them, 
And carried hither and yon through the smoke, and torn 

and bloody, 
And at last but a few shreds left on the staffs, (and all in 

silence,) 
And the staffs all splinter'd and broken. 

I saw battle-corpses, myriads of them, 

And the white skeletons of young men, I saw them, 

I saw the debris and debris of all the slain soldiers of the 

war. 
But I saw they were not as was thought. 
They themselves were fully at rest, they suffer'd not. 
The living remain'd and suffer'd, the mother suffer'd. 
And the wife and the child and the musing comrade suf- 
fer'd, 
And the armies that remain'd suffer'd. 

Passing the visions, passing the night, 

Passing, unloosing the hold of my comrades' hands, 

Passing the song of the hermit bird and the tallying song 

of my soul. 
Victorious song, death's outlet song, yet varying ever-al- 
tering song, 
As low and wailing, yet clear the notes, rising and falling, 
flooding the night, 
[172] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOM'D— 

[Contmued] 

Sadly sinking and fainting, as warning and warning, and 

yet again bursting with joy, 
Covering the earth and filling the spread of heaven, 
As that powerful psalm in the night I heard from recesses, 
Passing, I leave thee lilac with heart-shaped leaves, 
I leave thee there in the dooryard, blooming, returning 

with spring. 

I cease from my song for thee, 

From my gaze on thee in the west, fronting the west, com- 
muning with thee, 
O comrade lustrous with silver face in the night. 

Yet each to keep and all, retrievements out of the night. 
The song, the wondrous chant of the grey-brown bird, 
And the tallying chant, the echo arous'd in my soul. 
With the lustrous and drooping star with the countenance 

full of wo. 
With the holders holding my hand nearing the call of 

the bird, 
Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever 

to keep, for the dead I loved so well. 
For the sweetest, wisest soul of all my days and lands — 

and this for his dear sake, 
Lilac and star and bird twined with the chant of my soul, 
There in the fragrant pines and the cedars dusk and dim. 

Walt Whitman 
[173] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WALT WHITMAN'S SPRIG OF LILAC 
"When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd" — W. W. 

OXCE more, O heart, caress this humble bush 
And swing thy gates to gleam of western star, 
To haunting lure of perfume calling far, 
When falls the cool of fourth-month evening hush. 
Dare I intrust thy strength, O mem'ry rush, 
To cleanly leap each self-love ling'ring bar 
Athwart thy w^onted path lest it should mar 
That distant song of solemn, plaintive thrush ? 
Ah, wide the miles and deep the flood of years, 
Yet hour, and star, and bush are still the same ! 
Behold, great love this lilac sprig to fame 
Has linked ; these dripping gems, a poet's tears ! 
O Whitman, see, another spirit hears 
And plucks a flower in thy loved Lincoln's name ! 

Edmond S. Meany 



[174] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



MEMORIES OF WHITMAN AND LINCOLN 

"When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd" — W. W. 

LILACS shall bloom for Walt Whitman 
And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. 
Spring hangs in the dew of the dooryards 
These memories — these memories — 
They hang in the dew for the bard who fetched 
A sprig of them once for his brother 
When he lay cold and dead. . . . 

And forever now when America leans in the dooryard 
And over the hills Spring dances, 
Smell of lilacs and sight of lilacs shall bring to her heart 

these brothers. . . . 
Lilacs shall bloom for Walt Whitman 
And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. 

Who are the shadow forms crowding the night? 
What shadows of men ? 

The stilled star-night is high with these brooding spirits — 
Their shoulders rise on the Earth-rim, and they are great 

presences in heaven — 
They move through the stars like outlined winds in young 

maples. 
Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman 
And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. 

[175] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



MEMORIES OF WHITMAN AND LINCOLN— [Continued] 

Deeply the nation throbs with a world's anguish — 

But it sleeps, and I on the housetops 

Commune with souls long dead who guard our land at 
midnight, 

A strength in each hushed heart — 

I seem to hear the Atlantic moaning on our shores with 
the plaint of the dying, 

And rolling on our shores with the rumble of battle. . . . 

I seem to see my country growing golden toward Cali- 
fornia, 

And, as fields of daisies, a people, with slumbering, up- 
turned faces 

Leaned over by Two Brothers, 

And the greatness that is gone. 

Lilacs shall bloom for Walt Whitman 
And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. 

Spring runs over the land, 

A young girl, light-footed, eager, . . . 

For I hear a song that is faint and sweet with first love, 

Out of the West, fresh with the grass and the timber, 

But dreamily soothing the sleepers. . . . 

I listen: I drink it deep. 

Softly the Spring sings, 
Softly and clearly: 
[176] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



MEMORIES OF WHITMAN AND hmCOLN— [Continued] 

"/ open lilacs for the beloved. 

Lilacs for the lost, the dead. 

And, see, for the living, I bring sweet strawberry 

blossoms. 
And I bring buttercups, and I bring to the woods 

anemones and blue bells. . . . 
I open lilacs for the beloved. 
And when my fluttering garment drifts through dusty 

cities. 
And blows on hills, and brushes the inland sea. 
Over you, sleepers, over you, tired sleepers, 
A fragrant memory falls. . . . 
/ open love in the shut heart, 
I open lilacs for the beloved." 

Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman 
And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. 

Was that the Spring that sang, opening locked hearts, 

And is remembrance mine ? 

For I know these two great shadows in the spacious night. 

Shadows folding America close between them, 

Close to the heart. . . . 

And I know my own lost youth grew up blessedly in their 

spirit, 
And how the morning song of the mighty native bard 
Sent me out from my dreams to the living America, 
To the chanting seas, to the piney hills, down the railroad 

vistas, 

[177] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



MEMORIES OF WHITI^IAN AND LINCOLN— [Con finttetf] 

Out into the streets of Manhattan when the whistles blew 

at seven, 
Down to the mills of Pittsburgh and the rude faces of 

labour. . . . 
And I know the grave great music of that other, 
Music in which lost armies sang requiems, 
And the vision of that gaunt, that great and solemn figure, 
And the graven face, the deep eyes, the mouth, 
O human-hearted brother, 
Dedicated anew my undevoted heart 
To America, my land. 

Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman 
And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. 

Now in this hour I was suppliant to these two brothers. 

And I said : Your land has need : 

Half-awakened and blindly we grope in the great 

world. . . . 
What strength may we take from our Past, what promise 

hold for our Future ? 
And the one brother leaned and whispered : 
"I put my strength in a book, 
And in that book my love. . . . 
This, with my love, I give to America. . . ." 

And the other brother leaned and murmured: 
"I put my strength in a life, 
And in that life my love. 
This, with my love, I give to America." 
[178] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



MEMORIES OF WHITMAN AND LmCOLN— [Continued] 
Lilacs bloom for Walt Whitman 
And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. 

Then my heart sang out: This strength shall be onr 

strength : 
Yea, when the great hour comes, and the sleepers wake 

and are hurled back, 
And creep down into themselves, 
There shall they find Walt Whitman 
And there, Abraham Lincoln. 

Spring, go over this land with much singing 

And open the lilacs everywhere. 

Open them out with the old-time fragrance 

Making a people remember that something has been for- 
gotten. 

Something is hidden deep — strange memories — strange 
memories — 

Of him that brought a sprig of the purple cluster 

To him that was mourned of all. . . . 

And so they are linked together 

While yet America lives. . . . 

While yet America lives, my heart. 
Lilacs shall bloom for Walt Whitman 
And lilacs for Abraham Lincoln. 

James Oppenheim 

[179] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN ASSASSINATED 

ABKAHAM LINCOLI^, the kind and good President 
of the United States, has been assassinated, and 
amongst all the news of startling import which reaches 
us this week — the death of the amiable Czarowitz of Rus- 
sia, the uncertain state of the health of the king of the 
Belgians, the assassination of the assistant secretary of 
the Russian legation at Paris, the capitulation of his army 
by General Lee, and the confession of the murder of her 
little brother, five years ago, by Constance Kent — that is 
the one subject which engrosses public attention and oc- 
cupies the minds of all thinking men. A full account, 
so far as it has yet reached us, of the assassination of the 
President will be found in another column. Let us briefly 
recapitulate a few of the events which have been hurrying 
forward with such terrific rapidity in the United States 
within the last few weeks, and drop a tear to the memory 
of a man who, in circumstances of unparalleled difficulty, 
did as much for his country as any of his predecessors in 
the high office which he held — Washington or Adams, Jef- 
ferson or Madison, Monroe or Quincy Adams, Jackson 
or Van Buren, Harrison or Tyler, Polk or Taylor, Fill- 
more, Pierce, or Buchanan ; and these names constitute 
the whole of the men who have presided over the United 
[180] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN ASSASSINATED— [Conf wtterf] 

States of North America since their government was fairly 

established on its present basis in 1789. 

LINCOLN" was, withal, so good a man; his country 
looked to him so earnestly in her hour of need; his pa- 
triotism was so great; his honesty so sterling; his clem- 
ency so marked ; his piety so pure ; his firmness so inex- 
haustible, that none but miscreants such as these could 
have entertained for a moment the atrocious idea of a 
crime like this. In the magnificent language of Macbeth, 
when soliloquising upon the proposed murder of the gentle 
Duncan — 

"He hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
Will plead like angels, ti'umpet-tongued, against 
The deep damnation of his taking-oft'; 
And pity, like a naked, new-born babe. 
Striding the blast, on Heaven's cherubim horsed, 
Upon the sightless couriers of the air. 
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
That tears shall drown the wind." 

The above extract from the West Surrey Times, April 29, 1865, 
and the following group of poems from England, France and Italy, 
were found in "The Appendix to the Diplomatic Correspondence, 
1865." This large octavo volume, fine print, contains only the "senti- 
ments of condolence and sympathy" from foreign countries. Repre- 
sentatives of the governments of all countries, and many organisa- 

[181] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



tions and private individuals, sent condolences to the United States 
and to Mrs. Lincoln at this time of national and personal bereave- 
ment. 

The few messages in poetic form are reprinted here for the new 
significance they take on, now that we are more strongly than ever 
allied with these great nations in the present war for World Free- 
dom. 



[182] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



W. GRAY TO AMBASSADOR ADAMS 

Abington Terrace, 
Northampton, May 19, 1865. 
Respected Sir: 

Your well known courtesy encourages me to forward the 
enclosed lines to you, at the request of an invalid sister, 
whose composition they are, as a tribute to the memory of 
that great and good man, your late President. 

If it would not be out of place, and should meet with 
your approbation, my sister desires you would enclose 
them in your future despatches for Mrs. Lincoln, with a 
sincere hope that they may afford her some comfort in 
her heavy affliction. Trusting you will pardon the lib- 
erty I have taken, 

I remain your most obedient servant, 

William Gray 
C. F. Adams, Esq., 

United States Ambassador. 



[183] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

A NATION — nor one only — mourns thy loss, 
Brave Lincoln, and with voice unanimous 
Kaises to thy deathless memory 
A dirge-like song of all thy nohle deeds. 
High let it rise; and I, too, fain would add 
A loving tribute to thy priceless worth, 
More widely known since banished from the earth. 

Laurel shall now thy brow entwine 
In memory's ever faithful shrine; 
Nor shall it fade when earth dissolves. 
Caught up to meet thee in the air, 
Old age and youth shall bless thee there; 
Love shall her grateful tribute pay, 
Nor cease through heaven's eternal day. 

Geace W. Geay 
Northampton, England, 



[184] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LATE PRESIDENT LINCOLN 

Resolution passed at the ordinary meeting of the Albert 
Literary Society 

AT the ordinary meeting of the Albert Literary So- 
ciety, on the 4th instant, held at the Royal Institu- 
tion, Colquitt Street, Mr. G. H. Ball in the chair, the 
following resolution was proposed by Mr. A. B. Hayward, 
the vice-president, seconded by Mr. E. J. Parr, the treas- 
urer, and carried unanimously: 

"That this society record its deep horror of the enor- 
mous crime which has deprived the American people of 
their Chief Magistrate, and tender to the late President 
Lincoln's family, and the nation at large, its sincere sym- 
pathy, and also its appreciation of his singular ability, rare 
integrity, and progressive spirit." 

William Evans, 
Hon. Secretary. 
Liverpool, May 5, 1865. 



[185] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

O/C semper tyrannis!" the assassin cried, 
k3 As Lincoln fell. O villain ! who than he 

More lived to set both slave and tyrant free, 
Or so enrapt with plans of freedom died, 
That even thy treacherous deed shall glance aside 

And do the dead man's will by land and sea ; 

Win bloodless battles, and make that to be 
Which to his living mandate was denied ! 
Peace to that gentle heart ! The peace he sought 

For all mankind, nor for it dies in vain. 
Rest to the uncrowned king who, toiling, brought 

His bleeding country through that dreadful reign; 
Who, living, earn'd a world's revering thought. 

And, dying, leaves his name without a stain. 

Robert Leighton 

Liverpool, May, 1S65. 



[180] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



TO THE MEMORY OF MR. ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

President of the republic of the United States of Amer- 
ica, May, IS 65 

Translation 

THE works of Satan fill the earth with pain ; 
The world is now mourning one of his wicked deeds. 
Who has not heard of his last exploit ? 
The news is carried by the tolling of a bell. 
Public welfare now demands that we be all united-; 
Let feelings of jealousy be laid aside ; 
We only think of saving our country. 

Free and noble children of America ! 

The hero of the great republic is no more; 

He who, when in danger, saved its flag ! 

Washington will receive him as a brother, 

But the world will mourn him more than Washington. 

The universe will sing a hymn, 

And say he went down a martyr to the tomb. 

When the madman in his fury struck the sage, 

The human race was shocked with horror and remorse. 

Why should just men tolerate such fiends among them? 

If such men were less common now, in France, 

We would ne'er regret so many crimes. 

[187] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



TO THE MEMORY OF MR. ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Con tinued] 

God cries in His anger, vengeance; 

Justice wants another bloody sacrifice, 

And Lincoln fell, the victim of innocence. 

Like Christ, like Brown, he was a martyr. 

He died to save his country and to free the blacks. 

'Now his holy reign is over. 

Forget him not, ye generous sons of Ham. 

Let us now look up to heaven. 
And ask his immortal soul. 
Freed from the trammels of the flesh, 
If his work was not perfect. 
The world moves on, and men rejoice 
That freedom is restored to all. 
Some may not bless him now; 
But e'er they die they'll see the good he did, 
And praise him. 

AuGusTE L'Alloux 
Former interpreter of Dupetit-Tliouars, Braut and 
Hamlin, Bachelor of Arts, professor of English, first pri- 
mary free teacher, 38 Chaussee du Maine, Paris. 



[188] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



J. C. LUSINE TO MESSRS. SEWARD 
Translation 

Gentlemen: There are names which explain the 
condition of a country, and Mr. Lincoln's is one of 
them. The illustrious citizen who protested against slav- 
ery and assassination has fallen a victim to fanaticism. 

In dedicating this day a sprig of anemone to the memory 
of your glorious martyr, thus joining in the prayers of 
thousands, be assured that my heart also protests against 
assassination, whatever may be its motive, and particu- 
larly against that of which you yourselves, together with 
your friends, came near being the victims. 

Mr. Lincoln placed entire confidence in you, gentlemen, 
and you may believe that a poor French workingman feels 
intense satisfaction in your speedy recovery, because he 
sees in it a determination on your part to finish the task 
begun by President Lincoln, and to attend more devot- 
edly to the cause of the slaves liberated by your blood and 
his. 

May peace hereafter preside over your noble efforts. 

J. C. LusiNE, 
No 26, Bernard Street, Paris. 
Enclosed is a printed sonnet taken from the Phare de 
la Loire, May 2, 1865, entitled: Un Rameau d'lmmor- 
telle. 

[189] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



UN RAMEAU D'IMMORTELLE 

LINCOLN, grand citoyen, fils de la liberte, 
Integre magistrat, vertu dignc d'Homere ; 
Toi qui n'oublias point ton berceau ni ta mere, 
Gloire de I'Amerique et de I'humanite! 

Ton devoir est rempli : Ton ombre avec fierte 
Voir I'esclavage en vain qiieter un vietimaire, 
11 n'a pris que ton corps ; le crime est ephemere. . . . 
Ton ceuvre a toi s'envole a I'immortalite ! 

Aussi, comme une femme au fruit de ses entrailles, 
Le Sud au ISTord uni pleure a tes funerailles: 
Ton sang dicte la paix au peuple fier geant ! 

Regois done, 6 martyr de la liberte sainte, 

Des travailleurs frangais dans le deuil et la plainte: 

Un rameau d'immortelle a travers I'ocean! 

J. C. LusiNE, 
Employe, ancien ouvrier relieur. 
28 avril 1SG5. 



[190] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



PAUL THOUZERY TO MR. BIGELOW AND TO 
PRESIDENT JOHNSON 

Translation 

Paris, May 20, 1865. 
Sir : I have the honour of sending you with this letter 
several copies of an ode I have composed in honour of 
Abraham Lincoln, and two letters, one for the widow of 
the great man, and the other for Mr. Johnson, now Presi- 
dent of the United States. 

I shall be infinitely obliged to you if you will send them 
to their destinations in the shortest possible time. 

You will also do me the favour to fix a day when I 
may have a brief interview with you. 

Accept my sympathy for your glorious country, and 
the assurance of my most distinguished consideration. 

Paul Thouzery 
To Mr. Bigelow, 

Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States of 
America. 

Translation 

Paris, May 20, 1865. 
Mr. President : To one whom Abraham Lincoln loved 
and associated with him in his great work, I send an ode 
addressed to the memory of that great man. 

[101] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



PAUL THOUZERY TO PRESIDENT J OUNSQ-N — [Continued] 

May my verses find an echo in every American heart! 
May your worthy citizens aid you in the labour you have 
undertaken! You only were worthy to succeed Lincoln. 

The ode I send you to-day will prove, I hope, that the 
sympathy of the world is with you. 

To eulogise the dead in the presence of the living is 
honouring the latter, by showing them that we confide in 
their genius and their impartiality. 

I am, with respect, Mr. President, your humble ad- 
mirer, 

Paul Thouzeby 

To Mk. Johnson, 

President of the United States of America. 



ODE 
A ABRAHAM LINCOLN 



OTJI, ce n'est que trop vrai, la fatale nouvelle, 
Dont eut voulu douter notre raison rebelle, 
S'est confirmee, et tout nous peint son affreux sort ; 
Et les peuples tremblants, dans Fun et I'autre monde, 
Sentant leur coeur saisi d'une douleur profonde, 
Disent en pleurs: Lincoln est mort! 

II est mort, ce heros digne des temps antiques ! 
Que ne puis-je aujourd'hui, dans des chants homeriques, 
[192] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ODE — [ Continued] 

Apprendre a runivers quels fiirent ses bienfaits, 
Rappeler ses vertus, parler de sa sagesse ! 
II vous a surpasses, vieux Nestors de la Grece! 
J 'en veux pour preuve ses hauts faits. 

II est mort, mais du moins son oeuvre est immortelle ; 
Sa gloire, desormais, rayonnera plus belle. 
Comme le Christ, il a gravi son Golgotha, 
Et son sang repandu sur un nouveau Calvaire, 
Pollen delicieux, fera germer sur terre, 
Les reves d'or qu'il enfanta. 

II est mort. Avec lui perira I'esclavage, 
Son martyre a nos yeux en est un divin gage, 
Son voeu le plus ardent ainsi s'aceomplira : 
Des bords de I'Orenoque au rivage du Tibre 
Et du Tage a 1' Indus, tout homme sera libre; 
Au grand livre chacun lira! 

II est mort, mais du moins sa tache fut complete, 
II est mort sur la breche, ainsi qu'un noble athlete ; 
Quand on a bien vecu, qu'importe le trepas? 
Pour le penseur, mourir, n'est-ce done pas renaitre? 
C'est se transfigurer, devenir un autre etre, 
Puisque I'ame ne perit pas ! 

II 

O toi dont I'aveugle furie, 
A seme la terre de deuil, 

[193] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ODE— [Continued] 

Wilkes Booth, traitre a la patrie, 
A genoiix, devant ce cercucil, 
Heros cFun drame epouvantable, 
Maudissant ta haine execrable, 
yiens courber ta tete coupable, 
Devant ces restes adores. 
Viens ecouter la plainte amere 
Qui, de tous les points de la terre, 
Monte vers la celeste sphere, 
Sortant de nos coeurs atterres. 
Ton audace egala ta rage, 
Mais ton projet avortera. 

Et I'Amerique, avec courage, 
Tou jours vers son but marchera. 
En vain, tu frappas ta victime, 
Sache-le bien, jamais le crime 
!Ne pourra reudre legitime 
Le plus odieux des desseins; 
Et ton nom, maudit d'age en age. 
Par I'humanite qu'il outrage 
Sera clone, sur une page, 
Au pilori des assassins. 

Ill 

Et toi noble martyr que le monde revere, 
Toi, qui des opprimes voulais etre le pere, 
[104] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ODE— [Continued] 

En vain tu succombas sous le plomb meiirtrier, 
Ton nom, le plus grand nom de toute republique, 
Rayonnera toujours au front de I'Amerique 
Comme un splendide bouclier. 

Quelle etoile jamais fut pareille a la tienne? 
Comme Franklin, issu de race plebeienne, 
Parti des derniers rangs, fils do ta volonte, 
Tu montas, tu montas jusques au rang supreme, 
Puis Justice et Devoir furent ton diademe, 
Et ton sceptre, la Liberte. 

Comme John Brown, ce Christ de I'humanite noire 
Tu brilleras sans cesse, au zenith de I'histoire, 
Lcs siecles a venir encor te beniront, 
Et, plus vil fut celui qui t'arracha la vie, 
Plus belles, desormais, malgre I'infame envie, 
Tes ceuvres etincelleront 

Dors en paix, dors en paix dans tes langes funebres, 
La raison, chaque jour, dissipe les tenebres 
Que repandaient sur nous I'ignorance et I'orgueil; 
De ces rudes fleaux nous chasserons la race, 
Et nos fils heureux, en marchant sur la trace, 
Ne rencontreront nul ecueil. 

Salut, salut a vous, martyrs de la pensee, 
Chacun de vous travaille a I'oBuvre commencee, 

[195] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ODE — [Continued] 

Et de la meme foi vous dressez les autels; 
Depuis celui qui prit, sans trembler, la cigue, 
Chacun de vous ressent quelque douleur aigue, 
Salut, vous etes immortels ! 

Qui, par vous notre terre ou tout se renouvelle 
Verra regner un jour la paix universelle, 
L'amour entre ses fils mettra I'egalite! 
Et Fhomme comprenant enfin le grand dictame, 
Sentira tressaillir et resonner son ame 
Au grand nom de fraternite! 

Paul Thouzeey 



[196] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



F. CAMPADELLI TO HON. MR. BIGELOW 

Translation 

9 Villa St. Michel, (Batignolles,) 

Paris, May 17, 1865. 

The triumph of the federal cause, or rather of jus- 
tice, in America made every heart friendly to liberty 
palpitate with joy. Why should sorrow come in such a 
tragic manner to change the sentiments of harmony and 
concord that seemed to surround this generous successor 
of Washington at a time when his moderation and tran- 
quil virtues promised a perpetuity of peace? What a 
grand and noble duty he had to perform after what he had 
done already with such calm energy. In sacrificing such 
a man, blind passion, we have no doubt, consecrated his 
memory while it conquered and killed forever the worst of 
causes. Such are the sentiments I have endeavoured to 
express in the language of my adopted country in honour 
of that beautiful American republic of which I would like 
to have the glory of being a citizen, and to the eminent 
magistrate for whom the world now mourns. 

You will honour me much, sir, by accepting the dedica- 
tion of this ode, and bestowing upon its author a benev- 
olent regard. 

I have the honour to be, with the most profound re- 
spect, your very humble and obedient servant, 

F. Campadelli 

Hon. Me. Bigelow, 

United States Minister at PaT^. 

[197] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ODE 

Abraham Lincoln, ou le triomphe de.V Union Americaine, 

dedie a l'ho7iorable Monsieur Blcjelow, Ministre 

des Etats-Unis 

LE monde gemissait de cette lutte immense 
Ou s'exaltait I'orgueil et I'insigne demence 
D'olygarques brisant le pacte d'Union, 
Facte sacre, portant en sa puissante seve 
Des destins que n'ont pas les conquetes du glaive 
Pour conduire a son but la grande nation. 

De Washington pour eux Foeuvre serait chimere — 

Quand ce heros vengea la liberte, sa mere, 

Contre les oppresseurs d'un monde en son berceau, 

Afin de lui donner sa base legitime, 

II groupa sans effort, par un lien intime, 

Des Etats fraternels sous un momc drapeau. 

Et ce labeur, scelle du sang de tant de braves, 
Fonde par la vertu, pure de ces entraves 
Que I'ambition forge au profit des tyrans, 
A constamment fleuri pres d'un siecle prospere, 
Donnant a FUnivers Fexemple salutaire 
Du saint respect des lois qui fait les peuples grands. 
[198] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ODE — [Continued] 

Si I'Europe se plait a se faire une idole 

De tout usurpateur sans frein qui les immole, 

Dictant pour toute loi sa seule volonte, 

Sur ce sol genereux, immense champ d'asile, 

Conviant I'homme fort a le reujre fertile, 

Le premier fruit vital est dans la liberte. 

La, ce n'est pas en vain que tout mortel I'implore: 
Du faible elle est le droit, et le puissant s'honore 
De tou jours maintenir son niveau respecte. 
Alors, chez lui, talents, genie, honneur, fortune, 
Au lieu d'etre un danger pour la cause commune, 
Sont les gages certains de sa prosperite. 

Aussi, quelle grandeur au vieux monde inconnue 
L'Amerique atteignait, depuis la bienvenue 
De I'ere oii Washington vint affirmer ses droits! 
La Maison-Blanche a vu sans garde pretorienne, 
Sans licteurs, sans I'eclat de la pompe ancienne, 
Des magistrats plus grands et plus fiers que des rois. 

Droit moderne, salut! Et voila ton prodige! 
Palais de la vertu, salut ! car ton prestige 
Ne vient pas d'un pouvoir par la force usurpe: 
Quiconque en tes lambris pensc, agit ou respire, 
N'est grand qu'en subissant et maintenant I'empire 
Des lois qui font I'honneur d'un peuple emancipe. 

[199] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



OD E — [ Con tmued ] 

Eh quoi ! des heritiers de ce plan magnifique 

Ou. se developpait la grande Eepublique 

Ont os6 le briser, sous le pretexte vain 

De cette liberte qui serait leur victime, 

Si, triomphant avec I'esclavage, leur crime! 

lis lui faisaient subir un affront souverain! 

Mais le droit s'est leve dans sa virile force: 

Tout un peuple a fletri cet inf ame divorce 

Que pour eux seuls revaient d'orgueilleux citoyens; 

Et, saisissant le fer centre la ligue impie, 

II a vaincu — laissant toute haine assoupie 

Quand ont mis Farme bas ses aveugles soutiens. 

Gloire, honneur a Lincoln ! homme d'une f oi pure, 
Qui porta le fardeau si grand, sans dictature, 
Sans violation du temple saint des lois; 
Honneur a ces guerriers loyaux, vaillants et fermes, 
Qui des rebellions ont pu franchir les termes, 
Sans jamais imprimer de tache a leurs exploits! 

lis atteignaient deja I'heure de la concorde — 
Amerique! e'etait un eloquent exorde 
Pour la democratie en marche d'avenir — 
Que peuvent desormais les sophismes nefastes 
Dont so parent encor les tyrans et les castes, 
Quand devant eux surgit I'ombre de ton martyr! 
[200] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ODE — [Continued] 

O crime ! 6 trahison ! dans ton revers supreme 

Tu glisses dans le sang et Fignoble blaspheme — 

En vouant pour jamais a I'immortalite 

Un champion du droit clement, dont la grande ame 

Est I'auguste racliat de ce tribut infame 

Qu'une race payait a la fatalite! 

F. Campadelli, 
Ex-lieutenant des Volantaires Italiens. 
Paris, ce 1^ mai 1865. 



[201] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



IN TOKEN OF RESPECT 

Translation from Latin verses 

FEOM bumble parentage and low degree 
Lincoln ascended to tbe highest rank; 
None ever bad a harder task than he. 

It was perfected — him alone we thank. 

Did the assassin think to kill a name, 

Or hand his own down to posterity? 

One will wear tbe laurel wreath of fame, 
The other be condemned to infamy. 

The mighty Caesar was slain by Brutus, 
Yet glorious Rome did not cease to be ; 

Lincoln the good and great, by Booth, and yet 
The slaves throughout America are free ! 

F. B. 

Bieti, May, 1865. 



[202] 



VII. LINCOLN'S GRAVE 



"Meseems I feel his presence. Is he dead? 
Death is a word. He lives and grander grows.' 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GRAVE 

MAY one who fought in honour for the South 
Uncovered stand and sing by Lincoln's grave? 
Why, if I shrunk not at the cannon's mouth, 
Nor swerved one inch from any battle-wave, 
Should I now tremble in this quiet close 
Hearing the prairie wind go lightly by 
From billowy plains of grass and miles of corn, 

While out of deep repose 
The gi-eat sweet spirit lifts itself on high 
And broods above our land this summer morn? 

Yon little city bumbles like a hive, 
Ajid yonder fields are rolling like the sea, 
From lake to gulf our peaceful millions strive ; 
Old notes of discord sink to harmony ; 
And here beside this grave I stand apart 
Clothed in my birthright's plenitude of power 
And feel the thought within me rise and yearn, 

And overflow my heart! 
I am the poet of this golden hour ; 
A whole world's aspirations in me burn. 

And, erst a rebel, I am not a saint ; 
For dear as life the memory of those days. 
Those comrades, that young banner; not a taint 
Of shame my record holds. I speak the praise 

[205] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GB,AVE— [Continued] 

Unbounded of my camp-mates who yet live, 
Or those, with honour shining bright as gold, 
Who went to death, as to a banquet going; 

And proudly do I give 
A song to you who kept the banner old, 
The dearest flag o'er any country blowing! 

Whose children walk with bright uplifted heads 

Under that flag by bullets rent and cloven. 

By factions torn and ravelled into shreds, 

By loving hands untangled and rewoven ? 

Both mine and thine, no matter where we fought, 

Our wedded veins now spill a warmer flood 

Than poured at Wilderness and Rocky-face; 

The victory we sought. 
Each fighting for what seemed his children's good. 
Came when that banner reached its rightful place. 

Broad is our view and broad our charity, 

Deep calls to deep, and height to height appeals, 

With the foregathering voice of prophecy. 

And boundless is the scope our morn reveals! 

Blue as an iris-petal bending over. 

And violet-sweet this cloudless sky of ours ; 

Thrills in our air the vital fire of truth. 

And o'er us swarm and hover. 
Like golden bees o'er nectar-burdened flowers, 
The rare imperious potencies of youth. 

[206] 




ABRAllAiM LINCOLN OK Tl 1 L KAUKWKLL ADDRESS, ItV ANDREW O CONNOR. 
nF.niCATKD BF.FOHK TIIK CAPITOL AT SI'RINC.KIKLD, OCTOBER 5, 1918 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GRAVE— [Continued] 

Ob, is there now a ISTorth so arrogant, 

A South so narrow and so bitter still, 

It bosoms any thought malevolent 

Under that flag on freedom's stately hill? 

'Not those who charged between the batteries, 

Crashing midway like meeting cannon-shot. 

Can ruminate old hatreds o'er again. 

Stifling warm sympathies 
And friendships true that cowards value not ; 
I^ot soldiers good, for they are gentlemen. 

O Federal soldiers, ours, as well as thine, 
The passionate wild love of home and land ! 
When Georgia called I felt the thrill divine, 
And who could quell my heart or stay my hand? 
We rushed together on that field of death. 
Unmindful of ourselves; behind us lay 
Home, mother, country — all that life is worth! 

Even now I feel the breath 
Of courage that did hurl me through the fray. 
And strand me by the ramparts of the North ! 

Right seems to dally as it strolls along; 
But still it moves and never backward goes ; 
Each pace is certain, every pose is strong ; 
Crushed in its vestiges it leaves its foes, 
And yet no man escapes its loving care. 
Or dies in vain its honest combatant. 



[207] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



c 



LINCOLN'S GHAVE— [Continued] 

Or fails to conquer fighting by its side ! 

Like incense on the air 
Went up brave souls where bayonets crossed aslant 
And every bosom held a patriot's pride! 



Old soldiers true, ah, them all men can trust, 
Who fought, with conscience clear, on either side; 
Who bearded Death and thought their cause was just; 
Their stainless honour cannot be denied; 
All patriots they beyond the farthest doubt ; 
Ring it and sing it up and down the land. 
And let no voice dare answer it with sneers. 

Or shut its meaning out ; 
Ring it and sing it, we go hand in hand. 
Old infantry, old cavalry, old cannoneers. 



And if Virginia's vales shall ring again 
To battle-yell of Moseby or Malone, 
If Wilder's wild brigade or Morgan's men 
Once more wheel into line; or all alone 
A Sheridan shall ride, a Cleburne fall, 
There will not be two flags above them flying, 
But both in one, welded in that pure flame 

Upflaring in us all. 
When kindred unto kindred loudly crying 
Rally and cheer in freedom's holy name! 

[208] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GRAVE— [Continued] 

Great heart that bled on every awful field, 
Deep eyes that wept for every soldier dead, 
What time the Blue or Grey swept on or reeled. 
What time, triumphant, Meade or Johnston led; 
True heart that felt our country one and whole, 
Kind eyes that saw to love beyond the strife; 
Inspire me, fill me, hold me close and long, 

My every source control, 
So that the richest veins of human life 
Thrilled through by thee may consecrate my song! 



I, mindful of a dark and bitter past, 

And of its clashing hopes and raging hates, 

Still, standing here, invoke a love so vast 

It cancels all and all obliterates. 

Save love itself, which cannot harbour wrong; 

Oh for a voice of boundless melody, 

A voice to fill heaven's hollow to the brim 

With one brave burst of song 
Stronger than tempest, nobler than the sea, 
That I might lend it to a song of him ! 



Meseems I feel his presence. Is he dead ? 
Death is a word. He lives and grander grows. 
At Gettysburg he bows his bleeding head ; 
He spreads his arms where Chickamauga flows, 

[209] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GUAVE— [Continued] 

As if to clasp old soldiers to Lis breast, 

Of South or North no matter which they be, 

Xot thinking of what uniform they wore, 

His heart a palimpsest, 
Record on record of humanity, 
Where love is first and last forevermore. 

His was the tireless strength of native truth, 
The might of rugged, untaught earnestness; 
Deep-freezing poverty made brave his youth, 
And toned his manhood with its winter stress 
Up to the temper of heroic worth, 
And wrought him to a crystal clear and pure, 
To mark how Nature in her highest mood 

Scorns at our pride of birth, 
And ever plants the life that must endure 
In the strong soil of wintry solitude. 

Close to the ground what if his life began, 
In rude bucolic self-denial keyed, 
Fed on realities, yet hearing Pan 
Along the brookside blow a charmed reed ! 
O flocks of Hardin, you remember well 
The awkward child, and had ho not a look 
Of one forechosen of grand destiny ? 

In field or forest dell 
Did he not prophesy to bird and brook. 
And shape vague runes of what was yet to be ? 

[210] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S G'S.AVE— [Continued] 

Born in the midway space where freedom seemed 

To sport with slavery, and half way o'er 

From where the South in golden luxury dreamed 

To that old rock of Plymouth on the shore 

Made holy by the touch of pilgrim feet, 

He grew to stature of the largest mould, 

A stalwart burden-bearer trudging on 

And up to that high seat, 
Which never more the like of him shall hold, 
Over rough ways, through pain and sorrow drawn. 



Giant of frame, of soul superbly human, 
Best measure of true greatness measures him ; 
Crude might of man, the native sweet of woman, 
The immanence of destiny strange and dim. 
Brawn-building labour with the axe and maul, 
Braced and enriched him to the uttermost, 
And filled those founts that wisdom bubbles from, 

Made him so kingly tall, 
So notable of mien 'mid any host. 
The leader and the master strong and calm. 



He, the last product and the highest power 
Of elemental righteousness and worth. 
Gave all his life, that in Time's darkest hour. 
Dear Freedom should not perish from the earth, 

[211] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S G^AVE— [Continued] 

And steadfast in the centre of the storm, 
Grim as a panther for its cubs at bay, 
He was the one, the tixed, the president, 

The overtowering form, 
That broke the bolts of every thunderous day, 
And made itself the nation's battlement. 

Set for the right his vision absolute 

Compassed all charity, nor failed to see 

That highest sense of right may constitute 

Grant's glory and the noble strength of Lee; 

His eyes were never narrowed to the line 

By which the bigot gauges every look; 

In Sherman's will, in Stonewall Jackson's prayer 

He felt the force divine 
Wherewith the soul of loftiest manhood shook 
When war with its wild glamour filled the air. 

While all the world on Freedom gazed askance. 

Ere yet more than her shadowy form they saw, 

He spoke the foresay and significance, 

The finest intimation of her law; 

Wisdom so tender, justice so kind and good. 

The warm appeal of limitless faith in man, 

The goal toward which our widening cycle rolls, 

The perfect brotherhood; 
These flushed his spirit ; and with him began 
The universal league of human souls. 

[212] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S G'RAVE— [Continued] 

Speak not of accident or circumstance, 

He was the genius of primeval man 

Evolved anew, despite the waves of chance; 

Along his nerves the human current ran. 

Pure as the old far fountain in the shade 

Of God's first trees. He knew the score right well, 

And note by note, of Nature's simple staif, 

Yodled in grove and glade; 
He loved the story and the honest laugh. 
The rustic song, the sounds of field and fell. 



His humour, born of virile opulence. 

Stung like a pungent sap or wikl-fruit zest, 

And satisfied a universal sense 

Of manliness, the strongest and the best; 

A soft Kentucky strain was in his voice. 

And the Ohio's deeper boom was there, 

With some wild accents of old Wabash days, 

And winds of Illinois; 
And when he spake he took us unaware 
With his high courage and unselfish ways. 



And fresh from God he had the godlike power 
Of universal sympathy with life. 
Or high or low ; he knew the day and hour, 
Felt every motive actuating strife, 

[213] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GRAVE— Wontinued] 

Lived on both sides of every aspiration, 

And saw how men could differ and be right, 

How from all points the waves of truth are driven 

To one last destination; 
How prayer that battles prayer with awful might 
Eternally tempestuous rolls to heaven. 

He heard the rending of the bonds of love, 
And he was rent with every snapping strand; 
Toppled the temple's base and dome above. 
Yawned a black chasm across our lovely land; 
And yet he could not let the fragments go. 
Or loose his hold on that firm unity 
Welded at Valley Forge and Bunker Hill; 

He heard the bugles blow 
On either side, and yet how could it be ? 
He prayed for peace, forbore and trusted still! 

He was the Southern mother leaning forth 

At dead of night to hear the cannon roar, 

Beseeching God to turn the cruel North 

And break it that her son might come once more; 

He was New England's maiden pale and pure, 

Whose gallant lover fell on Shiloh's plain; 

He was the mangled body of the dead; 

He writhing did endure 
Wounds and disfig-urement and racking pain, 
Gangi'ene and amputation, all things dread. 

[2U] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GRAVE— [Continued] 

He was the North, the South, the East, the West, 

The thrall, the master, all of us in one ; 

There was no section that he held the best; 

His love shone as impartial as the sun ; 

And so revenge appealed to him in vain, 

He smiled at it, as at a thing forlorn. 

And gently put it from him, rose and stood 

A moment's space in pain, 
Remembering the prairies and the corn 
And the glad voices of the field and wood. 



Oh, every bullet-shock went to his heart. 
And every orphan's cry that followed it. 
In every slave's wild hope he bore a part, 
With every master's pang his face was lit; 
But yet, unfaltering, he kept the faith. 
Trusted the inner light and drove right on 
Straight toward his golden purpose shining high 

Beyond the field of death. 
Beyond the trumpets and the gonfalon. 
Beyond the war-clouds and the blackened sky. 



Annealed in white-hot fire he bore the test 
Of every strain temptation could invent. 
Hard points of slander, shivered on his breast, 
Fell at his feet, and envy's blades were bent 

[215] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GB.AVE— [Continued] 

In bis bare band and ligbtly cast aside; 
He would not wear a sbield; no selfisb aim 
Guided one tbougbt of all tbose trying bours ; 

No breatb of pride, 
!N^o pompous striving for tbe pose of fame 
Weakened one stroke of all bis noble powers. 

And so, vicariously all suffering, 

Over stupendous ills be rose supreme, 

Set Freedom free, made tbat a real tbing 

Wbicb all tbe world bad tbougbt a splendid dream ! 

Across tbe red and booming tide of war 

He sped tbe evangel of eternal right, 

Tbe message brave tbat broke tbe ancient spell 

And rang and ecboed far; 
Above tbe battle at its stormiest beigbt 
He beard eacb cbain of slavery as it fell! 

And then wben Peace set wing upon tbe wind 
And Nortbward flying fanned tbe clouds away, 
He passed as martyrs pass. Ab, wbo sball find 
Tbe cbord to sound tbe patbos of tbat day ! 
Mid-April blowing sweet across tbe land, 
New bloom of freedom opening to tbe world, 
Loud paeans of tbe bomeward-looking host. 

The salutations grand 
From gi'imy guns, tbe tattered flags unfurled; 
But he must sleep to all the glory lost! 

[216] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GRAVE— [Continued] 

Sleep ! Loss ! But there is neither sleep nor loss, 

And all the glory mantles him about; 

Above his breast the precious banners cross, 

Does he not hear his armies tramp and shout? 

Oh, every kiss of mother, wife or maid 

Dashed on the grizzly lip of veteran. 

Comes forthright to that calm and quiet mouth, 

And will not be delayed, 
And every slave, no longer slave but man, 
Sends up a blessing from the broken South. 



Shall we forget what other slaves to-day 

Delve, freeze and starve and wear the iron chain? 

What women feel the lash, what children pray 

For mother, father, home, and pray in vain? 

Beware of treaties with a tyrant power. 

One manly peasant's worth a thousand Tzars, 

One woman struck calls for a million sabres! 

Ring, ring, O golden hour, 
Forseen of patriots in a myriad wars! 
Great soul, march on and end thy glorious labours! 



Hero and hind, thy strong, familiar pace, 
Outreaching Time, is that the world must take, 
If it shall find at last the lofty place 
Where Glory flames and Freedom's banners shake! 

[217] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'3 GRAVE— [Continued] 

Imperial hands, that never touched the helve 

Of plough or hoe, may glove themselves in scorn, 

At mention of those palms so hard and brown, 

Those knuckles formed to delve; 
But what empurpled despot ever born 
Could buy one whiff of freedom with a crown? 

Oh, nevermore the tide of life shall turn 
Backward upon the dark and savage past; 
The flame he lit shall grow and stronger burn 
With incense farther blowing to the last! 
Why build for him a monument or tomb. 
Or carve his name on any temple's stone, 
Or speak of him as one whose soul has fled? 

N"o mausoleum's gloom, 
No minster space, no pyramid grand and lone, 
Can shut on him or prove that he is dead. 

He is not dead. France knows he is not dead; 
He stirs strong hearts in Spain and Germany, 
In far Siberian mines his words are said, 
He tells the English Ireland shall be free, 
He calls poor serfs about him in the night, 
And whispers of a power that laughs at kings. 
And of a force that breaks the strongest chain; 

Old tyranny feels his might 
Tearing away its deepest fastenings. 
And jewelled sceptres threaten him in vain. 

[218] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S GRAVE— IContinued] 

Years pass away, but freedom does not pass, 

Thrones crumble, but man's birthright crumbles not, 

And, like the wind across the prairie grass, 

A whole world's aspirations fan this spot 

With ceaseless panting after liberty. 

One breath of which would make dark Russia fair, 

And blow sweet summer through the exile's cave, 

And set the exile free; 
For which I pray, here in the open air 
Of Freedom's morning-tide, by Lincoln's grave. 

Maueice Thompson 



[219] 



VIII. LINCOLN IN MEMORIAL 



"The hand that shapes its Lincoln must he strong 

As his that righted our bequeathed wrong; 

The heart that shows v^ Lincoln must he hrave. 

An eqv^l comrade unto hing or slave; 

The mind that gives U5 Lincoln must he clear 

As that of seer 
To fathom deeps of faith abiding under tides of fear. 




STATUE OF ABRAHAM MXCOI.N BY Air.I'STl'S 
SAINT-GAUDENS, IN I.INCOI.X PARK, 
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 




THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



SAINT-GAUDENS' LINCOLN 

I WEPT by Lincoln's pall when children's tears, 
That saddest of the nation's years, 
Were reckoned in the census of her grief; 

And, flooding every eye. 

Of low estate or high, 
The crystal sign of sorrow made men peers. 

The raindrop on the April leaf 
Was not more unashamed. Hand spoke to hand 
A universal language; and whene'er 
The hopeful met 'twas but to mingle their despair. 

Our yesterday's war-widowed land 
To-day was orphaned. Its victorious voice 
Lost memory of the power to rejoice. 
For he whom all had learned to love was prone. 
The weak had slain the mighty; by a whim 
The ordered edifice was overthrown 
And lay in futile ruin, mute and dim. 

O Death, thou sculptor without art, 

Wliat didst thou to the Lincoln of our heart? 

Where was the manly eye 

That conquered enmity? 

Where was the gentle smile 

So innocent of guile — 

[223] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



SAINT-GAUDEXS' LINCOLN— [ Con tinned] 

The message of good-will 

To all men, whether good or ill ? 

Where shall we trace 
Those treasured lines, half Inimour and half pain, 
That made him doubly brother to the race? 
For these, O Death, we search thy mask in vain! 



Yet shall the future be not all bereft: 
'Not without witness shall its eyes be left. 
The soul, again, is visible through Art, 
Servant of God and Man. The immortal part 
Lives in the miracle of a kindred mind. 
That found itself in seeking for its kind. 
The humble by the humble is discerned; 
And he whose melancholy broke in sunny wit 
Could be no stranger unto him who turned 
From sad to gay, as though in jest he learned 
Some mystery of sorrow. It was writ: 



The hand that shapes us Lincoln must he strong 
As his that righted our bequeathed wrong; 
The heart that shows us Lincoln must he hrave. 
An equal comrade unto king or slave; 
The mind that gives us Lincoln must he clear 

As that of seer 
To fathom deeps of faith abiding under tides of fear, 

[224] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



SAINT-GAUDENS' LmCOLN— [Continued] 

What wonder Fame, impatient, will not wait 

To call her sculptor gi-eat 
Who keeps for us in bronze the soul that saved the State ! 
Robert Undeewood Johnson 

From his Saint-Gaudens : an Ode (New York: Published by the 
Author). 



[225] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ON SAINT-GAUDENS' STATUE OF LINCOLN 

A LITTLE group of merry children played 
Around the statue's base, where, gaunt and tall, 

His image stands — the bronze memorial 
Unto his greatness that Saint-Gaudens made — 
In thoughtful posture, carelessly arrayed 

In loose, ill-fitting clothes, that somehow fall 
In graceful lines — as one wrapped in a thrall 
Of thought, who pauses, sad, yet undismayed. 
And on the sad, calm face, where deep lines tell 

His suffering and unimagined wo, 
I fancied as their laughter rose and fell 

A smile played 'round his lips with sad, sweet glow- 
A smile like His who in far Galilee 
Said, "Let the little children come to me." 

Fkedekick Burton Eddy 



[226] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ON A BUST OF LINCOLN 

THIS was a man of mighty mould 
Who walked erewhile our earthly ways, 
Fashioned as leaders were of old 
In the heroic days! 

Mark how austere the rugged height 

Of brow — a will not wrought to bend ! 

Yet in the eyes behold the light 
That made the foe a friend! 

Sagacious he beyond the test 

Of quibbling schools that praise or ban; 
Supreme in all the broadest, best, 

We hail American. 

When bronze is but as ash to flame. 

And marble but as wind-blown chaff, 

Still shall the lustre of his name 
Stand as his cenotaph! 

Clinton Scollaed 



[227] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ON A BRONZE MEDAL OF LINCOLN 
Victor D. Brenner's 

THIS bronze our noble Lincoln's head dotb bear; 
Behold the strength and splendour of that face, 
So homely-beautiful, with just a trace 
Of humour lightening its look of care. 
With bronze indeed his memory doth share, 

This martyr who found freedom for a Race; 
Both shall endure beyond the time and place 
That knew them first, and brighter grow with wear. 
Happy must be the genius here that wrought 
These features of the great American 

Whose fame lends so much glory to our past — 
Happy to know the inspiration caught 

From this most human and heroic man 

Lives here to honour him while Art shall last. 
Feank Dempster Sheeman 



[228] 



^'. 



f ',^^ 



r^' ' t 



•f/- 



f.f;'i 







■'r*- 



THE CEXTENNIAL MEDAI, OF LINCOLN IN BRONZE 
BY VICTOR D. BRENNER 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



N 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

OT one of all earth's wise and good 
Hath earned a purer gratitude 
Than the great Soul whose hallowed dust 
This structure holds in sacred trust. 

How fierce the strife that rent the land, 
When he was summoned to command ; 
With what wise care he led us through 
The fearful storms that 'round us blew. 

Calm, patient, hopeful, undismayed, 

He met the angry hosts arrayed 

For bloody war, and overcame 

Their haughty power in Freedom's name. 

'Mid taunts and doubts, the bondsman's chain 
With gentle force he cleft in twain, 
And raised four million slaves to be 
The chartered sons of Liberty. 

No debt he owed to wealth or birth ; 
By force of solid, honest worth 
He climbed the topmost height of fame, 
And wi'ote thereon a spotless name. 

[229] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Contimied] 

Ohl when the felon hand laid low 
That sacred head, a sudden wo 
Shot to the Nation's farthest bound, 
And every bosom felt the wound. 

Well might the iSTation bow in grief, 
And weep above the fallen chief, 
Who ever strove, by word or pen. 
For "peace on earth, good-will to men." 

The people loved him, for they knew 
Each pulse of his large heart was true 
To them, to Freedom, and the right, 
Unswayed by gain, unawed by might. 

This tomb, by loving hands up-piled 
To him, the merciful and mild. 
From age to age shall carry down 
The glory of his great renown. 

As the long centuries onward flow. 

As generations come and go, 

Wide and more wide his fame shall spread, 

And greener laurels crown his head. 

And when this pile is fallen to dust. 
Its bronzes crumbled into rust. 
Thy name, O Lincoln ! still shall be 
Revered and loved from sea to sea. 
[230] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LmCOLX— [Continued] 

India's swart millions, 'neatli their palms 
Shall sing thy praise in grateful psalms, 
And crowds by Congo's turbid wave 
Shall bless the hand that freed the slave. 

Shine on, O Star of Freedom, shine. 
Till all the realms of earth are thine ; 
And all the tribes through countless days 
Shall bask in thy benignant rays. 

Lord of the ISTations ! grant us still 
Another patriot sage, to fill 
The seat of power, and save the State 
From selfish greed. For this we wait. 

John H. Bryant 

This poem was read by the author (brother of William Cullen 
Bryant) at the ceremonies in Springfield on the eighteenth anni- 
versary of the death of Lincoln. 



[231] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LIFE-MASK OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

THIS bronze doth keep the very form and mould 
Of our great martyr's face. Yes, this is he: 
That brow all wisdom, all benignity; 
That human, humorous mouth; those cheeks that 
hold 
Like some harsh landscape all the summer's gold; 
That spirit fit for sorrow, as the sea 
For storms to beat on; the lone agony 
Those silent, patient lips too well foretold. 
Yes, this is he who ruled a world of men 

As might some prophet of the elder day — 
Brooding above the tempest and the fray 
With deep-eyed thought and more than mortal ken. 
A power was his beyond the touch of art 
Or armed strength — his pure and mighty heart. 
RiCHAED Watson Gildee 



[232] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE EMANCIPATION GROUP 

AMIDST thy sacred effigies 
Of old renown give place, 
O city, Freedom-loved! to his 

Whose hand unchained a race. 

Take the worn frame, that rested not 

Save in a martyr's grave; 
The care-lined face, that none forgot, 

Bent to the kneeling slave. 

Let man be free ! The mighty word 
He spake was not his own; 

An impulse from the Highest stirred 
These chiselled lips alone. 

The cloudy sign, the fiery guide. 

Along his pathway ran. 
And ISTature, through his voice, denied 

The ownership of man. 

We rest in peace where these sad eyes 
Saw peril, strife and pain; 

His was the nation's sacrifice. 
And ours the priceless gain. 

[233] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE EMANCIPATION GROVP— [Continued] 
O symbol of God's will on earth 

As it is done above! 
Bear witness to the cost and worth 
Of justice and of love. 

Stand in thy place and testify 

To coming ages long, 
That truth is stronger than a lie, 

And righteousness than wrong. 

John Gkeenleaf Whittier 



[234] 




THE EMAXCIPATIOX GROUP BY TMOIMAS BAI.T., IN' LINCOLN PARK, 
WASHINGTON, D. C. 



f 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN STATUE 

Gutzon Borglum, Sculptor 

A MAN who drew his strength from all, 
Because of all a part; 
He led with wisdom, for he knew 
The common heart. 

Its hopes, its fears his eye discerned, 

And, reading, he could share. 
Its griefs were his, its burdens were 

For him to bear. 

Its faith that wrong must sometime yield. 

That right is ever right, 
Sustained him in the saddest hour, 

The darkest night. 

In patient confidence he wrought, 

The people's will his guide, 
Nor brought to his appointed task 

The touch of pride. 

The people's man, familiar friend. 

Shown by the sculptor's art 
As one who trusted, one who knew 
The common heart. 

W. F. Collins 
[235] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



TO BORGLUM'S SEATED STATUE OF ABRAHAM 
LINCOLN 

1 

ALONE, upon the broad low bench, he sits. 
From carping foes and friends alike withdrawn; 
With tragic patience for the spirit dawn 
He waits, yet through the deep-set eyes hope flits fl 

As he the back unto the burden fits. 
Within this rugged man of brains and brawn 
The quiv'ring nation's high powered currents drawn, 
As waves of love and kindness he transmits. 

O prairie poet, prophet, children's friend! 

Great brained, great willed, great hearted man and true, 

May we, like thee, in prayerful patience plod 

With courage toward the wished for, peaceful end! 

May we thy helpful friendliness renew, 

Thou war worn soul communing with thy God! 

Charlotte Bkewster Jokdan" 



[236] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



"ONE OF OUR PRESIDENTS" 

The statue of Lincoln at Newark, Neiv Jersey 

HE sits there on the low, rude, backless bench, 
With his tall hat beside him and one arm 
i'lung thus across his knee. The other hand 
Rests flat, palm-downward by him on the seat. 
So vEsop may have sat; so Lincoln did. 
For all the sadness in the sunken eyes. 
For all the kingship in the uncrowned brow, 
The great form leans so friendly father-like, 
It is a call to children. I have watched 
Eight at a time swarming upon him there, 
All clinging to him — riding upon his knees. 
Cuddling between his arms, clasping his neck, 
Perched on his shoulders, even on his head; 
And one small, play-stained hand I saw reach up 
And laid most softly on the kind bronze lips 
As if it claimed them. They were children of — 
Of foreigners we call them, but not so 
They call themselves ; for when we asked of one, 
A restless, dark-eyed girl, who this man was. 
She answered straight, "One of our Presidents." 

"Let all the winds of bell blow in our sails," 
I thought, "thank God, thank God, the ship rides true!" 
Wendell Phillips Staffokd 

[237] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THEIR LINCOLN 

CHILDREN loved him long ago; 
And the children of the street, 
Climbing from the lawTi below, 
Gather still about his feet. 

Little children, black or white, 

Touch his hands and have no fear — 

Clamber to his shoulder height. 
Whisper in his patient ear. 

And the calm and kindly eyes 

Seem, in them, again to see 
All the hope of youth that lies 

In the child race he set free. 

Stephen W. Meadek 



[238]' 




At almost any hour of the day children may l)e seen at play on Borglum's 
statue of Lincoln, which is set low in front of the Court House at Newark, 
Xew Jersey. 



STATITE OF ABRAHAM I.TNCOT.N BY 
OUTZQX BORGI.lTUr, IX FRO XT OF 
TUF. COURT IIOX'SE. XEWARK, 
NEW JF.RSF.Y 

See page 226 





THE LIFE MASK OF LINCOLN BY LEONARD K. VOLK 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN STILL LIVES 

THIS mask of bronze cannot conceal his heart; 
The lips once eloquent here speak again; 
The kindly eyes, where tears were wont to start, 
Look out once more upon the haunts of men. 

His image fits no dim cathedral aisle, 

Nor leafy shade, nor pedestal upraised. 

But here, where playful children rest awhile 

Upon his knees, whom all the nations praised. 

Great in his strength, yet winsome as a child. 

Quick to his touch the childlike heart responds, 

As when his mighty hands, all undefiled. 

From dark-hued childhood's limbs struck off the 
bonds. 

Death, unerring as your arrows be. 

High as the hills your hecatombs of slain, 

Against this Child of Immortality, 

O shame-faced Death, you sped your shaft in vain. 

Chaeles Mumfokd 



[239] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

HEROIC soul, in homely garb half hid, 
Sincere, sagacious, melancholy, quaint; 
What ho endured, no less than what he did, 

Has reared his monument, and crowned him saint. 
John Townsend Trowbridge 



[240] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN BOULDER 

Nyack, N. Y. 

O MIGHTY Boulder, wrought by God's own hand, 
Throughout all future ages thou shalt stand 
A monument of honour to the brave 
Who yielded up their lives, their all, to save 
Our glorious country, and to make it free 
From bondsmen's tears and lash of slavery. 

Securely welded to thy rugged breast, 
Through all the coming ages there shall rest 
Our Lincoln's tribute to a patriot band. 
The noblest ever penned by human hand. 

The storms of centuries may lash and beat 
Thy granite face and bronze with hail and sleet; 
But futile all their fury; in a day 
The loyal sun will melt them all away. 

Equal in death our gallant heroes sleep 
In Southern trench, homo grave, and ocean deep; 
Equal in glory, fadeless as the light 
Tho stars send down upon them through the night. 

[241] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN BOULDER— [Con/iwued] 

O priceless heritage for us to keep 

Our heroes' fame immortal while they sleep! 

O God, still guide us with Thy loving hand, 
Keep and protect our glorious Fatherland. 

Louis Beadford Couch 



[242] 



i 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE HAND OF LINCOLN 

LOOK on this cast, and know the hand 
That bore a nation in its hold: 
From this mute witness understand 

What Lincoln was — how large of mould 

The man who sped the woodman's team, 

And deepest sunk the ploughman's share, 

And pushed the laden raft astream, 
Of fate before him unaware. 

This was the hand that knew to swing 

The axe — since thus would Freedom train 

Her son — and made the forest ring, 

And drove the wedge, and toiled amain. 

Firm hand, that loftier office took, 
A conscious leader's will obeyed, 

And, when men sought his word and look. 

With steadfast might the gathering swayed. 

N"o courtier's, toying with a sword, 
Nor minstrel's, laid across a lute; 

A chief's, uplifted to the Lord 

When all the kings of earth were mute! 

[243] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE HAND OF LINCOLN— [Continued] 

The hand of Anak, sinewed strong, 

The fingers that on greatness clutch; 

Yet, lo ! the marks their lines along 

Of one who strove and suffered much. 

For here in knotted cord and vein 

I trace the varying chart of years; 

I know the troubled heart, the strain, 

The weight of Atlas — and the tears. 

Again I see the patient brow 

That palm erewhile was wont to press; 
And now 'tis furrowed deep, and now 

Made smooth with hope and tenderness. 

For something of a formless gi'ace 

This moulded outline plays about ; 

A pitying flame beyond our trace, 

Breathes like a spirit, in and out — 

The love that cast an aureole 

Round one who, longer to endure. 

Called mirth to ease his ceaseless dole, 
Yet kept his nobler purpose sure. 

Lo, as I gaze, the statured man. 

Built up from yon large hand, appears; 
A type that Nature wills to plan 

But once in all a people's years. 
[244] 




'M^i 




THE HANDS OF LINCOLN IN BRONZE BY LEONARD K. VOLK 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE HAND OF LmCOLN— [Continued] 

What better than this voiceless cast 

To tell of such a one as he, 
Since through its living semblance passed 
The thought that bade a race be free! 
Edmund Clarence Stedman 



[245] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



T 



BARNARD'S STATUE OF LINCOLN 

HE clay again has found a dowered hand 
To shape a wonder. Lo, the sculptor's art 



Has made its last the finest. There he stands 

A people's idol ! This is masterpiece 

Of man, as was the loved original 

Of God — invention's triumph for life's sake, 

Great history featured by great artistry, 

A poet's allegory wrought in bronze. 



This is a symbol of democracy — 
A towering figure risen from the soil 
And keeping the earth mould, yet so informed 
By spiritual power that they who gaze 
Perceive high kinship bearing similar stamp 
To One of eld from whom was learned the way 
Of wisdom and the love that goes to death. 
And this is commonalty glorified — 
A root out of dry ground, but watered 
By those inherent and ancestral streams 
Whose springs are in the furthest heavenlies. 
And this is nature's haunting miracle — 
The lowly dust builded to pinnacles, 
The earth-bound soul consorting with the stars. 
[24C] 






THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BARNARD'S STATUE OF l^mCOLN— [Continued] 

Unshapely feet — but they were such as trod 

The winepress of God's judgment on a land, 

Were such as clomb, striding through storm and night, 

The perilous steeps of right, leading a host. 

Ungainly hands — but they were such as plucked 

Thistles and planted flowers in their stead, 

Were such as struck hell's irons from a race 

And open swung barred gates of privilege. 

Unsightly back — but it was such as bore 

The bruises of a nation's chastisement, 

For see, the double cross welted thereon. 

The emblem of a statesman's Calvary! 

Uncomely face — but it was such as wore 

The prints of vigil and the scars of grief, 

A face more marred than any man's, save One, 

And save that One a face more beautiful. 

Those furrows, deftly moulded, came from tears. 

The visualising of vicarious pain. 

That writhed curve of lips marks forced control. 

Restraint of impulse for the sake of duty. 

Those intercessory eyes gaze awesomely. 

Seeing far off as if they searched God's eyes 

For covenant vindication, finding it. 

Yon brow, it bears the impress of a Hand 

Upon the sculptor's, that historic front 

May show receptive ^o divine ideals. 

May signal truth's elect interpreter. 

[24Y] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BARNARD'S STATUE OF LmCOU^— [Continued] 

So stands he, regnant in triumphant bronze, 

A spirit mastering fate by faith and love 

And imaging right's lordship o'er the world — 

So stands he, Heaven and Earth's great commoner, 

God's and the People's, light unto the nations, 

Lincoln the deathless, Lincoln the beloved. 

Lyman Whitney Allen 

Dr. Allen's poem of interpretation was read by him, following 
the presentation address by Hon. William Howard Taft, at the dedi- 
cation of the statue in Lytle Park, Cincinnati, March 31, 1917. 



[248] 




STATUE OF ABRAHAM I.IXCOI.N BY GEORGE GREY BARNARD, 
IX LYTI.E PARK, CINCINXATI 



See page 246 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN, 1865-1915 

OTHOU that on that April day 
Went down the bitter road to death, 
While freedom stumbled on her way, 
Her beacon blown out with a breath — 

Look back upon thy people now! 
Behold the work thy hands have wrought, 
The conquest of thy bleeding brow, 
The harvest of thy sleepless thought. 

From sea to sea, from palm to pine. 
The day of lord and slave is done ; 
The wind will float no flag but thine; 
The long-divided house is one. 

More proudly will Potomac wind 
Past thy pure temple to the sea ; 
But, ah ! the hearts of men will find 
No marble white enough for thee ! 

Wendell Phillips Stafford 



[249] 



IX, THE LIVING LINCOLN 



"In all the earth his great heart heats as strong, 
Shall beat while pulses throb to chivalry 

And bum with hate of tyranny and wrong. 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE CENOTAPH OF LINCOLN 

AND so they buried Lincoln? Strange and vain! 
Has any creature thought of Lincoln hid 

In any vault, 'neath any coffin lid, 
In all the years since that M^ild spring of pain? 
'Tis false — ^he never in the grave hath lain. 

You could not bury him although you slid 

Upon his clay the Cheops pyramid 
Or heaped it with the Rocky Mountain chain. 
They slew themselves; they but set Lincoln free. 
In all the earth his gi-eat heart beats as strong, 
Shall beat while pulses throb to chivalry 

And bum with hate of tyranny and wrong. 
Whoever will may find him anywhere 
Save in the tomb — not there, he is not there. 

James T. Mackay 



[253] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

I THINK ho is not dead — I think his faco 
Is in our faces, and his hands grope through 
Our hands when we do any kindnesses — 

And w^hen we dream I think he means us to. 

I saw a man stand in a shrieking street 

Preaching a hopeless Cause. Deep in his eyes 

A glory flickered — and I knew he looked 

With other ecstasies at God's mute skies. 

He was a workman, risen to a Dream; 

His face w^as bitten as with sharp-edged swords — 
Yet ho had gathered him a little world 

From life's loud street to hear his halting words — 

And we who listened, bound by some strange awe. 

Sensed the vague god shine through the dusty 
tramp. 

Saw the dim Presence kneeling in his eyes. 

And that, I think, was Lincoln at his lamp. 

And so I say he is not dead ; not he ! 

He was too much a part of us to die. 
Deep in the street I see his faces go; 

His light is in my neighbour passing by. 

Dana Burnet 

[254] 




IE PF.ASTF.R MODKI. OF' 



MKMORIAl. II.U.I. 




ARCHITECTS UKAWliNG SIlOWlNil I' 
SITE TO THE MAIX AND CAPITOF, 



IK HK.I.Al'ION (Jb 



:mi::m()hiai, 



"IJncoln, of all Americans next to Washington, deserves this place of honor. 
He was of the immortals. You must not approach too close to tlie immor- 
tals. His moininient should stand alone, remote from the common habita- 
tions of men, apart from the business and turmoil of the city — isolated, 
distinguished and serene." — John Hay. 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

AND, lo! leading a blessed host comes one 
Who held a warring nation in his heart; 
Who knew love's agony, but had no part 
In love's delight; whose mighty task was done 
Through blood and tears that we might walk in joy, 
And this day's rapture own no sad alloy. 
Around him heirs of bliss, whose bright brows wear 
Palm leaves amid their laurels ever fair. 
Gaily they come, as though the drum 
Beat out the call their glad hearts knew so well; 
Brothers once more, dear as of yore, 
Who in a noble conflict nobly fell. 
Their blood washed pure yon banner in the sky, 
And quenched the brands laid 'neath these arches high — 
The brave who, having fought, can never die. 

Harriet Monroe 

The above is from "The Columbian Ode," written by Miss Monroe 
at the request of the Committee on Ceremonies of the World's 
Columbian Exposition. The Ode was read and simg at the dedi- 
catory ceremonies in Chicago, on the 400th anniversary of the Dis- 
covery of America, Oct. 21, 1892. 



[255] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

MEN call him great, where once of old 
They called him despot, ruthless, cold, 
Like bloody cutlass keen; 
His brow, that now the wreath adorns, 
Long bore the crown of cruel thorns 
Worn by the Nazarene. 

Men heard his soul in anguish cry. 
And, tho' unworthy to untie 

The very shoes he wore. 
His cup of grief filled to the brim, 
And bade him drink 'til stars grow dim 

On the eternal shore. 

Full arm'd with wisdom forth he sprang, 
While critics curs'd and faint praise rang 

To damn his noble name; 
Yet prophet-like Time's voice still rings: 
Make straight the way, a king of kings 

Rides down the path of fame. 

This nation long as time shall run 
Will glory in this South-born son, 
[256] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABKAHAM LmCOLN— [Continued] 

Who wrote with gifted pen 
A prophecy of that fair day 

When God shall write henceforth for aye: 
I'll free the souls of men. 

Thomas H. Heendon 



[257] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

WHAT answer shall we make to them that seek 
The living vision on a distant shore? 
What words of life ? The nations at our door 
Believing, cry, ^'America shall speak!" 
We are the strong to succour them, the weak, 
We are the healers who shall health restore. 
Dear God ! Where our own tides of conflict pour, 
Who shall be heard above the din and shriek! 
Who, brothers? There was one stood undismayed 
'Mid broil of battle and the rancorous strife, 
Searching with pitiful eyes the souls of men. 
Our martyr calls you, wants you! Now as then 
The oppressed shall hear him and bo not afraid ; 
And Lincoln dead shall lead you unto life ! 

Flokence Kipee Frank 



[258] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

MAN'S saviours are men's martyrs — even thus 
It hath been written, and must ever be; 
Souls born for sacrifice vicarious, 

They bring us life, and we repay with death, 
Whether the vision that their sad eyes see. 
Portentous with the ultimate agony, 
Appear in Illinois or I^azareth. 

So also Lincoln, steadfast, gentle, strong, 

Both human and divine, to whom God yet 
Gave the glad triumph, and withheld the long 
Ordeal of the aftermath. Because 
Of that no man can ponder with regret 
Upon his end: serene at last, he met 

Death in the first, swift moment of applause. 

He is not ours to mourn, nor ours to praise — 

'Not the great North that set upon his brow 
Its laurels ; nor the South that, in the days 

Of conflict, faced the grim-determined odds 
Destined to conquer, impotent to cow; 
Nor all America can claim him now: 

Forevermore he is Mankind's and God's. 

Eeginald Wright Kauffman 

[259] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

SAY — if men ask for him — he has gone home, 
Home to the hearts of all that love their kind 
And they that seek him there, henceforth, shall find 
Their man of men — in all men's hearts at home. 
The Mother made him from her common loam, 
And from her world-wide harvest filled his mind. 
Poured by all paths, that from all quarters wind, 
As in old days all highways poured to Rome. 
She said : "I make a universal man, 
Warmed with all laughter, tempered with all tears. 
Whoso word and deed shall have the force of fate. 
I made not seven in all, since time began. 
Of men like these. They last a thousand years. 
They have the power to will, the will to wait." 

Wendell Phillips Staffobd 



[260] 




HEAD OF ABRAIIAINE I.INCOI.X IN :\rARBI.r: 

BY GUTZOX BORGLUlVr, 

IN THE ROTUNDA OF THE NATIONAL CAPITOL 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN LINCOLN 

NOT as the great wlio grow more great 
Until they are from us apart — 
He walks with us in man's estate ; 

We know his was a brother heart. 
The marching years may render dim 

The humanness of other men, 
To-day we are akin to him 

As they who knew him best were then. 

Wars have been won by mail-clad hands, 

Realms have been ruled by sword-hedged 
kings, 
But he above these others stands 

As one who loved the common things; 
The common faith of man was his, 

The common faith in man he had — 
For this to-day his brave face is 

A face half joyous and half sad. 

A man of earth ! Of earthy stuff, 

As honest as the fruitful soil, 
Gnarled as the friendly trees, and rough 

As hillsides that had known his toil; 

[201] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN LINCOLX— [Con^^;^HCf7] 

Of earthy stuff— let it be tokl, 

For earth-born men rise and reveal 

A courage fair as beaten gohl 

And the enduring strength of steel. 

So now he dominates our thought, 

This humble great man holds us thus 
Because of all he dreamed and wrought, 

Because he is akin to us. 
He held his patient trust in truth 

While God was working out His plan, 
And they that were his foes, forsooth, 

Came to pay tribute to the Man. 

Not as the great who grow more great 

Until they have a mystic fame — 
"No stroke of pastime nor of fate 

Gave Lincoln his undying name. 
A common man, earth-bred, earth-born, 

One of the breed who work and wait — 
His was a soul above all scorn. 

His was a heart above all hate. 

WiLBUK D. Nesbit 



[2G2] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



O 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

NE time I touched, with reverence, the cast 
Of his God-guided hand. One time I gazed 
Through tears, upon the mask of that sad face — 
Graven with grief, yet how it glowed with courage! 
And once iny fingers trembled as they held 
The handkerchief he carried that last night — 
A drop of his own blood has hallowed it. 
Men I have known who knew and talked with him, 
And lately spoke with one who stood close by 
When, on the field of Gettysburg, he read — 
"As one might read a letter to his children" — 
His brief, immortal tribute to those heroes 
Who did not die in vain. Thus have I come 
Within the mortal radius of that life 
Whose shortened day now spans Eternity. 

However much to me, all this is little, 

And words that tell of it are merely shadows 

Which fade, like night, before the radiant sun 

Of his vast love and wisdom — he, a prophet, 

Pointing the way tiirough broken bonds of serfdom 

To a still higher freedom ; striking shackles 

From minds enslaved by Fear and Greed and Hatred — 

Seeing, through angry storm-clouds of rebellion 

[263] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LT^COhN— [Continued] 

And evil mists of enmity and malice, 

The noblest state of what our fathers fought for- 

A government of, by and for the people ! — 

The only fit memorial for him. 



For him who showed that birth is high or lowly 

Only as deeds and character decree; 

That Love and Laughter are the master levers; 

That Heart is, after all, arch counsellor ! — 

A jesting spirit with a heart of tears. 

Who started lonely down the road of life 

Serene and unafraid ; who saw the need 

For common sense and courage — constant need 

Which still abides — and seeing, took his place 

And played his part with fortitude past praise. 



For all that we can say or sing of him 
Is lost like star-light in the cloudless noon 
Of all he was and did ! Only when we 
Turn from vain boasts and chanted glorying 
To frankly own our myriad mistakes 
And, with the sword his spirit has unsheathed, 
Fight for the rights of man as paramount 
To any other holdings under heaven; 
Only when we forget, as he forgot, 
The paltry things that wither in the plucking, 
[2G4] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN— [Con hnttec?] 

And dedicate hearth, soul and strength of being 

To Truth — however large the sacrifice — 

Can we begin to fitly praise this soul 

Which shines for Equity in deathless day! 

Leigh Mitchell Hodges 



[265] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



TO THE SPIRIT OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

Reunion at Gettysburg, twenty-five years after the 

battle 

SHADE of our greatest, O look down to-day! 
Here the long, dread midsummer battle roared, 
And brother in brother plunged the accursed sword; 
Here foe meets foe once more in proud array, 

Yet not as one to harry and to slay, 

But to strike hands, and with sublime accord 
Weep tears heroic for the souls that soared 
Quick from earth's carnage to the starry way. 

Each fought for what he deemed the people's good. 
And proved his bravery by his offered life. 
And sealed his honour with his outpoured blood ; 

But the Eternal did direct the strife. 

And on this sacred field one patriot host 
I^ow calls thee father — dear, majestic ghost ! 
Richard Watson Gildee 



[266] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 



LKE a gaunt, scragglj piue 
Which lifts its head above the mournful sandhills; 
And patiently, through dull years of bitter silence, 
Untended and uncared for, starts to grow. 

Ungainly, labouring, huge. 

The wind of the north has twisted and gnarled its 

branches ; 
Yet in the heat of midsummer days, when thunderclouds 

ring the horizon, 
A nation of men shall rest beneath its shade. 

And it shall protect them all. 

Hold every one safe there, watching aloof in silence; 
Until at last one mad stray bolt from the zenith 
Shall strike it in an instant down to earth. 

II. 

There was a darkness in this man ; an immense and 

hollow darkness, 
Of which we may not speak, nor share with him, nor 

enter ; 

[267] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN— [ Contmuedl 

A darkness through which strong roots stretched down- 
wards into the earth 
Towards old things; 

Towards the hcrdman-kings who walked the earth and 

spoke with God, 
Towards the wanderers who sought for they knew not 

what, and found their goal at last; 
Towards the men who waited, only waited patiently when 

all seemed lost 
Many bitter winters of defeat; 

Down to the granite of patience 

These roots swept, knotted, fibrous roots, prying, piercing, 

seeking. 
And drew from the living rock and the living waters 

about it 
The red sap to carry upwards to the sun. 



Not proud, but humble. 

Only to serve and pass on, to endure to the end through 

service ; 
For the axe is laid at the roots of the trees, and all that 

bring not forth good fruit 
Shall be cut down on the day to come and cast into the 

fire. 
[268] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN— [ Continued] 

III. 

There is a silence abroad in the land today, 

And in the hearts of men, a deep and anxious silence; 

And, because we are still at last, those bronze lips slowly 

open, 
Those hollow and weary eyes take on a gleam of light. 

Slowly a patient, firm-syllabled voice cuts through the 

endless silence 
Like labouring oxen that drag a plough through the chaos 

of rude clay-fields: 
I went forward as the light goes forward in early spring, 
But there were also many things which I left behind. 

Tombs that were quiet; 

One, of a mother, whose brief light went out in the 

darkness, 
One, of a loved one, the snow on whose grave is long 

falling. 
One, only of a child, but it was mine. 

Have you forgot your graves? Go, question them iri 

ang-uish. 
Listen long to their unstirred lips. From your hostages 

to silence, 
Learn there is no life without death, no dawn without 

sunsetting, 
'No victory but to him who has given all. 

[269] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN— [ Continued] 

IV. 

The clamour of cannon dies down, the furnace-mouth of 

the battle is silent. 
The midwinter sun dips and descends, the earth takes on 

afresh its bright colours. 
But he whom we mocked and obeyed not, he whom we 

scorned and mistrusted, 
He has descended, like a god, to his rest. 

Over the uproar of cities, 

Over the million intricate threads of life wavering and 
crossing. 

In the midst of problems we know not, tangling, per- 
plexing, ensnaring, 

Rises one white tomb alone. 

Beam over it, stars. 

Wrap it 'round, stripes — stripes red for the pain that he 

bore for you — 
Enfold it forever, O flag, rent, soiled, but repaired 

through your anguish ; 
Long as you keep him there safe, the nations shall bow 

to your law. 

Strew over him flowers: 

Blue forget-me-nots from the North, and the bright pink 

arbutus 
From the East, and from the West rich orange blossom, 
But from the heart of the land take the passion flower ; 
[270] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN— [Contin ued] 

Rayed, violet, dim, 

With the nails that pierced, the cross that he bore and 
the circlet. 

And beside it there lay also one lonely snow-white mag- 
nolia. 

Bitter for remembrance of the healing which has passed. 

John Gould Fletcher 



[271] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN WALKS AT MIDNIGHT 

IT is portentious, and a thing of state 
That here at midnight, in our little town 
A mourning figure walks, and will not rest, 
Near the old court-house pacing up and down, 

Or, by his homestead, or in shadowed yards 
He lingers where his children used to play, 
Or through the market, on the well-worn stones 
He stalks until the dawn-stars burn away. 

A bronzed, lank man! His suit of ancient black, 
A famous high top hat and a plain worn shawl 
Make him the quaint great figure that men love. 
The prairie-lawyer, master of us all. 

He cannot sleep upon his hillside now. 
He is among us — as in times before ! 
And we who toss and lie awake for long 
Breathe deep, and start, to see him pass the door. 

His head is bowed. He thinks on men and kings. 
Yea, when the sick world cries, how can he sleep ? 
Too many peasants fight, they know not why; 
Too many homesteads in black terror weep. 
[272] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN WALKS AT MIDNIGHT— [Co»«JM/ed] 

The sins of all the war-lords burn his heart. 
He sees the dreadnaughts scouring every main. 
He carries on his shawl-wrapped shoulders now 
The bitternesSj the folly and the pain. 

He cannot rest until a spirit-dawn 
Shall come; — the shining hope of Europe free: 
The league of sober folk, the Workers' Earth, 
Bringing long peace to Cornland, Alp and Sea. 

It breaks his heart that kings must murder still, 
That all his hours of travail here for men 
Seem yet in vain. And who will bring white peace 
That he may sleep upon his hill again? 

^^TiCHOLAs Vachel Lindsay 



[273] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



HE LEADS US STILL 

DAHE we despair ? Through all the nights and days 
Of lagging war he kept his courage true. 
Shall doubt befog our eyes ? A darker haze 

But proved the faith of him who ever knew 
That right must conquer. May we cherish hate 

For our poor griefs, when never word nor deed 
Of rancour, malice, spite of low or great, 

In his large soul one poison-drop could breed? 

He leads us still! O'er chasms yet unspanned 
Our pathway lies; the work is but begun; 

But we shall do our part and leave our land 
The mightier for noble battles won. 

Here truth imist triumph, honour must prevail: 

The nation Lincoln died for cannot fail ! 

Aethue Guiteeman 



[274] 



X. LINCOLN'S CENTENARY AND OTHER 
BIRTHDAYS 



*'Hail, Lincoln, to thy spirit, upon this day, 
Which saw thy birth, and saw in thee a child 
Bom for a mission beautiful." 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN: AN ODE 

LET silence sink upon the hills and vales! 
Over the towns where smoke and clangour tell 
Their glad and sorrowfully noble tales 

Of women bent with care, of men who labour 
well, 
Let silence sink and peace and rest from toil. 

Oh, vast machines, be still ! Oh, hurrying men, 
Eddying like chatf upon the frothy moil 

Of seething waters, rest ! In tower and den, 
High in the heavens, deep in the cavernous ground. 
There where men's hearts like pulsing engines bound, 
Let silence lull with loving hands the sound. 



Silence — ah, through the silence, clear and strong. 
Surging like wind-driven breakers, sweeps a song! 

Out of the North, loud from storm-beaten strings, 
Out of the East, with strife-born ardour loud, 
Out of the West, youthful and glad and proud, 

The cry of honour, honour, honour! rings. 
And clear with trembling mouth. 
Sipping in dreams the bitter cup, the South 



Magnanimous unfeigned tribute brings. 



[277] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN: AN QBE— [Continued] 

Oh, prosperous millions, hush your grateful cries ! 
The sanctity of things not of this earth 
Broods on this place — 
Wide things and essences that have their birth 
In the unwalled, unmeasured homes of space; 
Spirits of men that went and left no trace, 
Only their labour to attest their worth 
In the world's tear-dim, unforgetting eyes: 
Spirits of heroes ! Hark ! 
Through the shadow-mists, the dark, 
Hear the tramp, tramp, tramp of marchers, living, 
who were cold and stark ! 
Hear the bugle, hear the fife! 

How they scorn the grave! 
Oh, on earth is love and life 

For the noble, for the brave. 
And it's tread, tread, tread ! 
From the camp-fires of the dead. 
Oh, they're marching, they are marching with their 
Captain at their head ! 
Greet them who have gone before! 
Spread with rose and bay the floor — 
They have come, oh, they have come, back once more! 

Give for the soldier the cheer, 

For the messmate the welcoming call, 

But for him, the noblest of all, 

Silence and reverence here. 

[278] 




Copyright by Underwood <(■ UiKhrirood 

I.INC'OI.N S TIIOrOllT 
HEAD OF ABRAHASI ITXCOI.X IX I'l.ASTKR BY CEORCF. C.REY BARXARI) 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN: AN OT>E—[Contimted] 
Oh, patient eyes, oh, bleeding, mangled heart! 
Oh, hero, whose wide soul, defying chains, 
Swept at each army's head. 
Swept to the charge and bled, 
Gathering in one too sorrow-laden heart 
All woes, all pains: 

The anguish of the trusted hope that wanes, 
The soldier's wound, the lonely mourner's smart. 
He knew the noisy horror of the fight. 
From dawn to dusk and through the hideous night 
He heard the hiss of bullets, the shrill scream 

Of the wide-arching shell. 
Scattering at Gettysburg or by Potomac's stream, 
Like summer showers, the pattering rain of death; 
With every breath 

He tasted battle, and in every dream. 

Trailing like mists from gaping walls of hell. 
He heard the thud of heroes as they fell. 
Oh, man of many sorrows, 'twas your blood 

That flowed at Chickamauga, at Bull Kun, 
Vicksburg, Antietam and the gory wood 
And Wilderness of ravenous Deaths that stood 
Round Richmond like a ghostly garrison : 
Your blood for those who won, 

For those who lost, your tears! 
For you the strife, the fears, 
For us the sun! 

[279] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN: AN ODE— [Continued] 

For you the lashing winds and the beating rain in your 

eyes, 
For us the ascending stars and the widoj unbounded 

skies. 



Oh, man of storms! Patient and kingly soul! 

Oh, wise physician of a wasted land ! 

A nation felt upon its heart your hand. 
And lo, your hand hath made the shattered whole. 
With iron clasp your hand hath held the wheel 
Of the lurching ship, on tempest waves, no keel 

Hath ever sailed. 

A grim smile held your lips while strong men 
quailed. 

You strove alone with chaos and prevailed; 
You felt the gi'inding shock and did not reel. 
And, ah, your hand that cut the battle's path 
Wide with the devastating plague of wrath. 

Your bleeding hand, gentle with pity yet, 

Did not forget 
To bless, to succour, and to heal. 



Great brother to the lofty and the low. 

Our tears, our tears give tribute! A dark throng, 

With fetters of hereditary wrong 
Chained, serf -like, in the choking dust of wo, 

[280] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN: AN ODE— [Continued] 

Lifts up its arms to you, lifts up its cries ! 

Oh, you, who knew all anguish, in whose eyes, 

Pity, with tear-stained face. 
Kept her long vigil o'er the severed lands 

For friend and foe, for race and race; 
You, to whom all were brothers, by the strands 

Of spirit, of divinity. 

Bound not to colour, church, or sod, 
Only to man, only to God; 
You, to whom all beneath the sun 

Moved to one hope, one destiny — 

Lover of liberty, oh, make us free! 
Lover of union, Master, make us one! 



Master of men and of your own great heart, 

We stand to reverence, we cannot praise. 

About our upward-straining orbs, the haze 
Of earthly things, the strife, the mart, 

Rises and dims the far-flung gaze. 

We cannot praise ! 
We are too much of earth, our teeming minds. 
Made master of the beaten seas and of the conquered 
winds, 

Master of mists and the subservient air, 
Too sure, too earthly wise, 
Have mocked the soul within that asks a nobler prize, 

And hushed her prayer. 

[281] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN": AN ODE— [Continued] 

We know the earth, we know the starry skies, 
And many gods and stange philosophies; 

But you, because you opened like a gate 
Your soul to God, and knew not pride nor hate. 
Only the Voice of voices whispering low — 
You, oh my Master, you we cannot know. 

Oh, splendid crystal, in whose depths the light 

Of God refracted healed the hearts of men, 
Teach us your power! 
For all your labour is a withered flower 

Thirsting for sunbeams in a murky den, 
Unless a voice shatters as once the night. 

Crying, Emancipation! yet again. 
For we are slaves to petty, temporal things, 

Whipped with the cords of prejudice, and bound 
Each to his race, his creeds, his kings. 

Each to his plot of sterile ground. 

His narrow-margined daily round. 
Man is at war with man and race with race. 
We gaze into the brother's face 

And never see the crouching, hungry pain. 

Only the clanking of the slavish chain 
We hear, that holds us to our place. 

Oh, to be free, oh, to be one! 

Shoulder to shoulder to strive and to dare! 

What matter the race if the labour be done, 

What matter the colour if God be there? 

[282] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN: AN ODE— [Continued] 

Forward together, onward to the goal ! 
Oh, mighty Chief, who in your own great soul, 
Hung with the fetters of a lowly birth, 
The kinship of the visionless, the obstinate touch of 
earth, 
Broke from the tethering slavery, and stood 
Unbound, translucent, glorious before God ! — • 
Be with us. Master ! These unseeing eyes 
Waken to light, our erring, groping hands 
Unfetter for a world's great needs! 
Till, like Creation's dawning, golden through the 
lands 
Leaping, and up th' unlit, unconquered skies 

Surging with myriad steeds, 
There shall arise 
Out of the maze of clashing destinies, 

Out of the servitude of race and blood, 
One flag, one law, one hope, one brotherhood. 

Hermann Hagedokn 



[283] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 

1S09—1909 

"The mystic chords of memory, stretching from 
every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart 
and hearth-stone all over this broad land, ivill yet swell 
the chorus of the Union when again touched, as surely 
they will be, by the better angels of our nature." 

NO trumpet blared the word that he was born, 
JSTor lightning flashed its symbols on the day; 
And only Poverty and Fate pressed on 
To serve as handmaids where he lowly lay. 



ISTo royal trappings fell to his rude part — 
A simple hut and labour were its goal ; 
But Fate, stern-eyed, had held him to her heart, 
And left a greatness on his rugged soul. 



And up from earth and toil he slowly won — 
Pressed by a bitterness he proudly spurned — 
Till by grim courage, born from sun to sun, 
He turned defeat as victory is turned. 
[284] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LmCOLN— [Continued] 

Sired deep in destiny, he backward threw 

The old heredities that men have known; 

x\nd round his gaunt and homely form he drew 

The fierce white light that greatness makes its own. 

Sad-eyed and wan, yet strong to do the right — 
To clear the truth, as God gave him to see — 
He held a raging country by his might, 
Before the iron hour of destiny. 

Nor flame nor sword nor silver tongues availed 
To turn his passion from its steady flow; 
The compact of the Fathers had not failed — 
He would not let an angered people go! 

He stood in calm while shaking chaos swept 
The Union — North and South, in seething flood ; 
And on his knees, the griefs of both he wept — 
But kept unbroke the compact sealed in blood. 

He saw the sullen smoke of battle lift, 
That closed the carnage of the war of wars ; 
And on the height, hailed through the azure rift 
The flag whose folds have never dipped its stars. 

But amnesty was in the conquering hand, 
That yearned across the silent cannon's mouth; — 
When, with the knell that startled all the land. 
There died the last hope of the bleeding South! 

[285] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAJM LlJsCOLN— [Continued] 

With gentle tread time wears upon the past; 
The field of blood is dried, the waste is tilled, 
And by the light of peace around them cast, 
Men read the earnest prophecy, fulfilled. 

There is no wo in this broad land to-day, 
Held in the bonds of faith, forever one; 
The golden glow of progress leads the way. 
Where once the guns of wrath so darkly shone. 

Here rest their arms, while deathless glory tells 
The watch of time for all the true and brave — 
And here the grandeur of a Nation dwells — 
The Union, that a Lincoln died to save! 

Virginia Frazeb Boyle 

The above tribute from Mrs. Boyle, written at the invitation of 
the Philadelphia Brigade Association, and read by her at their cen- 
tennial celebration, Feb. 12, 1909, Was born of a life-long feeling of 
gratitude to President Lincoln. \ATien the author's father, an officer 
of the Confederate army, was ill in the military prison at Johnson's 
Island, and through some mysterious channels, perhaps Masonic, 
her mother heard that he was dying of pneumonia and starvation 
at a time when all Confederate visitors were forbidden the Island, 
she made the trip to Washington alone, and returned with a permit 
to see her husband, written by President Lincoln on his visiting 
card. Armed with this highest authority she was able to pass the 
officials and save her husband's life by providing proper food and 
care. 



[286] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY 

February 12, 1809 

AS back we look across the ages 
A few great figures meet the eye — 
Kings, prophets, warriors, poets, sages — 

Whose names and deeds will never die. 

The rest are all forgotten, perished, 

Like trees in trackless forests vast. 

But those whose memory men have cherished 
Seem living still and have n^ past. 

Not always of high race or royal 

These messengers of God to men, 

But lowly-born, true-hearted, loyal. 

They wielded sword or brush or pen. 

Such was our Lincoln, who forever 
Is hailed as Freer of the Slave, 

Whose lofty purpose and endeavour 

New hope to hopeless bondmen gave. 

Gaunt, hewed as if from rugged boulders, 
He bore a world of care and wo, 

Which creased his brow and bent his shoulders, 
And as a martyr laid him low. 

[287] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY— [Continued] 

And so we tell our sons his storj, 
We celebrate his humble birth, 

And crown his deeds with all the glory 
That men can offer on this earth. 

Hail, Lincoln ! As the swift years lengthen 
Still more majestic grows thy fame; 

The ties that bind us to thee strengthen; 
Starlike-immortal shines thy name. 

Nathan Haskell Dole 



[288] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY 

February 12, 1909 

WE name a day and thus commemorate 
The hero of our nation's bitter strife; 
The martyr who for freedom gave his life. 
We feel the day made holy by his fate. 



The wheels of time then turn their ceaseless round, 

And slowly wear our memory away: 

The holy day becomes a holiday; 

Its motive changes with its change of sound. 



Let not our purpose thus be set aside: 
An hour, 'twixt work and pleasure, let us pause, 
Ajid consecrate ourselves to serve the cause 
For which our hero strove, our martyr died. 



He lived to reunite our severed land; 
To liberate a million slaves he died, 
And that the great experiment be tried 
Where each one ruled, in ruling has a hand. 

[289] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY— [Continued] 

What tho' the pessimists, amid their fears, 
The great experiment to failure doom. 
Let us recall his trust in time of gloom. 
And steadfast persevere a thousand years. 

Tho' sure that victories will yet be won. 
Like those our fathers gained laboriously, 
'Tis not for us to boast vaingloriously 
As if our battles were already done. 

Our elders might have sung with better grace 
The verse that vaunts us ever free and brave. 
Had not our land so long oppressed the slave. 
Stolen from over sea, to our disgrace. 

Yet in our pride, how little right have we 
To blame our elders for an ancient wrong 
That gave the weak in bondage to the strong. 
Are we ourselves so wholly brave and free? 

Yes, with primeval courage, brave and strong. 
When banded 'gainst a foe; yes, free from kings- 
But not so brave and free in smaller things 
That we should celebrate ourselves in song. 

!N'ot that it counts for naught that we have grown 
To be the leaders of a continent, 
And not that we could be for long content 
'Mid any other folk except our own. 
[290] 




Interior of tlie Hodfjensville Liiifolii Memorial I^uilding slicltering tlie cabin 
in which I.incoln was horn. Botii were accepted for the nation by President 
Wilson Sei)tenil)er i, 191(1. 



^ HS f^ '^ 



THE I.INCOI.X MEI\roniAT, 

BiTii.nixG, ERF.CTt:n on 

THE I.INCOl.X FARM AT 
IIODGEXSVII.I.E, KENTl'CKV 




THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S HUNDREDTH BIRTHDAY— [Con iinited] 

But that we must not lightly over-rate 
Our qualities: if on our faults I lay 
A certain emphasis, 'tis not to-day 
Oui'selves, but Lincoln whom we celebrate. 

For he was brave, a true American — 
Unselfish, kindly, patient, firm, discerning, 
His honest, homely wisdom outweighed learning; 
He stood for service to his fellow man. 

How think of him and not condemn the use 
Of public office serving private ends. 
Of petty fraud, for which each one pretends 
To find in others' frauds his own excuse ? 

How can we think of him and not repent 
The shaded line we draw 'twixt wrong and right; 
Of him, and not resolve with all our might 
To carry on the great experiment? 

If most of us have no great tasks to do, 
Let us, like him, be faithful in things small. 
Our nation's drama makes us actors all; 
If only splitting rails, we'll split them true. 

If troubles thicken, let us still deserve 
To solve them all as Lincoln would to-day; 
If dangers threaten, let us not betray 
The cause that Lincoln, living yet, would serve. 

[291] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S HUNDREDTH BIRTRDAY—[C ontitmed] 

Here in a distant foreign land we pause, 
'Twixt work and pleasure, to commemorate 
His noble life. So let us consecrate 
Ourselves to play our part in Lincoln's cause. 

William Morris Davis 

This poem was read by its author (then Harvard Exchange- Pro- 
fessor at the University of Berlin) at the celebration of the Lincoln 
Centenary held at the home of the American Ambassador and Mrs. 
Hill, in Berlin, on the afternoon of Feb. 12, 1909. 



[292] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY 

A SACRED day is this— 
day to bless; 
A day that leads to bliss 
Through bitterness. 
For on this day of days, 
One wondrous mom, 
In far off forest ways 
Was Lincoln born! 

Who supped the cup of tears, 

Who ate the bread 
Of sorrow and of fears, 

Of war and dread; 
Yet from this feast of woes, 

His people's pride, 
A loved immortal rose 

All glorified ! 



John Kendrick Bai^gs 



[293] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BANNER MEMORIES 
A Poem for Ahraham Lincoln's Birthday 

THE lone ship plunges on her trackless way, 
Her guide and faithful needle pointing North. 

The sleepless watchman, silent, gazes forth 
To sight the changes of the night and day. 
The immeasurable waste of blue or grey. 

Its fluent hills and hollows splashed with foam, 
With rainbow-tinted flowers of flashing spray, 

Lies cold and solemn 'neath heaven's circling dome. 
For hour on hour no bird's wing flecks the sky; 

The same monotonous sweep of barren brine 
Wearies the homesick voyager's mournful eye 

Which vearns to catch some heart-consoling; sijm. 



"A sail ! a sail !" rings out the thrilling cry. 

Sudden athwart the keen horizon-line 
Struggles a dim, indefinite cloud to view. 
Half-blending, half-contrasting, with the blue, 
But momently enlarging, till, at last, 
Full-rigged with canvas straining at each mast — 

A vision of beauty in wind-cleansed dazzling white — 

A deep-hulled ship dawns full in sight, 

[294] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BANNER MEMORIES— [ Coni inucd] 

Rising and dipping on those mountainous seas. 

Then, if perchance that ship bears at the height 
Of swaying mast-top, wide-spread on the breeze, 

The traveller's home flag, faded though it fly, 
He feels that he must fall upon his knees 

In adoration of its majesty. 
It stirs his pulses, fills his eyes with tears, 

Makes him forget his grief and loneliness; 
It wakes the sailors' voices into cheers — 

Has magic power to kindle and to bless! 



What is the magic of the flag? 

What influence holds 

Within its graceful folds. 
That, though it be a smoke-grimed rag, 

Faded and frayed and tattered, 
Strife-eager men will die 

To hold it high 
Before the cannon belching shotted fire; 

And, if it drop 
From out the colour-sergeant's hands, 

The hero marching next will stop 
Only to seize with death desire 

Its blood-stained staff all shattered, 
And lift it onward for the following bands 

To get fresh courage by? 

[295] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BANNER MEMORIES— ICon/inued] 

How can its alternating stripes 

Of white and red, 
Its star-sown field of azure, 
Unite in one enthusiasm none may measure 
A hundred varying human types — 

Those who have fled 
From Persecution's cruel trial, 

Or who in Freedom's cause their blood have shed- 
Eussian and Hebrew, Finn and Persian; 

And those who save, by rigid self-denial, 
The meagre sum to justify desertion 
0f Fatherland's intolerance unpaternal ; 

And those who have escaped Conscription's curse, 
Or, what is worse, 

Some bitter internecine War's 
Wild aftermath infernal ; 

And those whose ancestors 
Came hither for Religion's sake 

With lofty zeal to make 

A Paradise of God 
Within a primitive wilderness untrod? 

What is the magic power 
Which makes its beauty lovelier than a flower? 

It is the symbol of a majesty, 
A vast idea, a concept that appeals 

To ignorant and to learned equally, 
To every heart that feels. 

[296] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BANNER MEMORIES— [Co ufrnwetZ] i 

It is the gonfalon of Liberty; 
Its bright escutcheon stands 
To differentiate from other lands 
Our home-land — land where we were born, 

Or new-born, into Freedom's light. 
Its mission is to welcome or to warn — 
To stream across the sky, 
Portentous as a comet, 
That fierce aggression's might 
May read the threat of vengeance from it; 
Or, softly beaming with effulgence bright, 
To feed the imagination of the young 

With hope and fervour for the Right 
And love for every nation, every tongue. 
Its thirteen alternating bars 

Rehearse the legend of a Nation's birth: 
The glorious Red 

Is symbol of the patriotic life-blood shed, 
Whose flower of fame we have inherited; 
The White is Peace, Good-will to Earth; 
The growing constellation 
Of dominating Stars 

Is hieroglyphic 
And typifies the increase of the iN^ation 

From Lakes to Gulf, Atlantic to Pacific. 

I stood within the marble-vaulted hall, 

Where, in tricoloured groups assembled, 

[297] 



THE BOOK OF LINXOLN 



BANNER MEMORIES— [Continued] 

The battle banners, bullet-torn, 

With years of service worn, 
Mantled with never-dying glory, 
Depicted national history on the wall. 

Those silent testimonials breathed the story 
Of bloody conflict, while the Country trembled. 

The memorable names were scrolled 

Upon each drooping fold — 
Antietam, Chickamauga, Gettysburg — 
Duels by sea and on the streams 

Whose waters into blood were turned. 
Battles above the clouds, where the Simurgh 

Of Oriental dreams 
Spread out his threescore wings, 

And, in deej) mourning, yearned 
Above the elemental strife 
Whose gage was a vast Nation's life! 



Methought I was a boy again. 

And, standing by the old brick homestead's gate, 
Watched, filing by, the troops of friendly men 

That left the tree-embowered village, 
The calm and peaceful rustic life. 

The evening's dewy stillness 

And the sweet fields of homely tillage. 
To march away and meet their waiting Fate 

Of death and ghastly wounds and life-long illness 

[298] 




THE LINCOLN HOME AT SPRINGFIELD, ILLINOIS 

From a war-time photograph 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BAXNER MEMOmES— [Continued] 

I heard the drum-tap and the shrilling fife 

And the gaunt captain's stern commands 

Resounding quick and loud. 
I saw the new flag, sewed by women's hands, 

Waving, as yet unsmoke-stained, bright and 
proud ! 
Oh ! how I mourned because I was a boy 
And could not share that patriotic joy 
Of marching Southward with those death-devoted bands ! 



Such was the scene in every town and city 
Throughout the universal ^orth: 

Husbands and fathers, lovers, sons and brothers, 
With fond devotion hastening forth. 
While in the desolate homes despairing mothers 
Stripped lint, made bandages with holy pity 

Alike for wounded friend and brave, misguided foe. 
And wept at each report of War's wide-wasting wo! 

For this, as well as our far-spread dominion, 

The glorious flag is symbol as it floats 
Above each school house, like the pinion 

Of some great watchful bird 
Whose sweet mellifluous notes 

Within the patriotic heart are heard. 
To-day, thank God ! that radiant flag again — 

By ISTorth and South united 

With faith and lealty voluntary-plighted 

[200] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BANNER MEMOmES— [Continued] 

Throughout our marvellously dowered domain — 

Is like a precious jewel treasured 

With love and g-ratitude unmeasured, 
By countless millions of free, happy men! 

Millions have died to shield it and would die ! 

Our martyr Lincoln's hlood was shed 
Upon the altar that it still might fly 
Unmutilated in our Freedom-breathing sky. 
He was the colour-bearer for the dead 

That marched in concentrating columns into fame, 

The heroic souls that kept the sacred flame 
Of heaven-descended Liberty 

With Patriotism's chrismal oil bright-fed! 

Fling forth the banner, then, 
On Lincoln's natal day ! 

Recall this simple-hearted Prince of men: 
Tall, gaunt, ungainly. 
Who spoke the frontier speech so eloquently, plainly, 

Whose sane wit kept the balance true 

'Twixt rainbow-hued fallacious hope 

And dark unreasoning despair ; 
Whose vivid intuition knew 
The upward-leading, goal-assuring clue 
Through darkness where more learned statesmen grope 
And fall because they have no faith to do and dare ! 
[300] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BANNER MEMOHIES— [Continued] 

He was the God-commissioned leader sent 

To guide his people through the Wilderness. 
When in the seeming fatal ambush pent, 

His courage bade him, victory-haloed, onward press. 
His heart was firm, his arms were stayed; 
Discouragement in vain assailed; 
Defeat still left him undismayed ; 

And thus the long hard passage to the Promised Land, 
In spite of cruel and malicious prophecies 
And traitors' evil offices. 

Was made as his great heart and mind had planned. 



Yet, like the earlier Moses, he was not allowed, 
With those he rescued from the foe, to stand 
(With swift temptation to be proud) 

Upon the sacred soil. 

His was the burden and the toil; 

And when the grapes of Eschol purple-clustering, 
The smiling pastures of the violet hills. 

The fertile plains, the shade-dispersing trees, 
The cooling waters of the sweet fresh rills, 

The fragrance of the blossom-sweeping breeze, 

The sleepy murmur of the honey-storing bees. 
After the desert sand-storms blustering, 

Oifered their riches and he might find rest. 

The assassin's weapon smote his friendly breast! 

[301] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BANNER MEMOmES— [Continued] 
Fling forth the banner, then — 

The star-emblazoned field of blue, 

The waving stripes which once Columbia threw 
Over the tear-drenched death pyre of her martyred Citizen. 
Fling forth the banner trimmed with laurel and with rue ! 
O, let the clangorous bell-tones ring 
And all the reverence of the Nation bring 
In honour of the man more royal than the mightiest king. 
0, greet the symbol of our Mother-land, 

Columbia, freedom-dowered, 

In whose gTeat heart the antique virtues all have flow- 
ered. 
So opulent, so generous, so grand. 

^Nathan Haskell Dole 



[302] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ON LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY 

A DAY of joy, a holiday! 
A day in festal colours drest 
To honour one who knew not play, 
I^or ever tasted rest! 

O Man of Sorrows and of Tears, 

Would we might bring to you 
Back through the pathway of dead years 

One touch of comfort true! 

Would that your eyes might penetrate 

The shadows in between, 
Through all the clouds of war and hate 

And mists that intervene, 

Into the hearts of all the throng 

Of living men, to find 
Your name and fame the first among 

The treasures of mankind! 

John Kendrick Bangs 



[303] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN: AN ELEGY 
Dedicated to President Woodrow Wilson 

HAIL, Lincoln, to thy spirit, upon this day, 
Which saw thy birth, and saw in thee a child 
Born for a mission beautiful, and laid. 
Like the babe Jesus, wrapt in lowliness. 
Upon the threshold of a shining year! 

Who but his mother round that little head 
Glimpsed the pale dawn of glory ? Who but she 
Dreamed of a wondrous halo which he wore 
And trembling bowed and worshipped ? Who but she 
Guessed all around him angels, robed with awe. 
And heard a whisper of seraphs ? Ah, she knew ! 
Knew as a mother knows, without surprise, 
Her son was born for saving of the sad ! 
What though on him shone no discovering star, 
Were not her eyes, her mother-beaming eyes, 
Yet fairer than the fairest orb in heaven ? 
What though to him no pomp of pilgrim kings, 
Adoring, doffed the tribute of their crowns, 
Was not her homage precious as their gold ? 
Thus with the dying swan's wild music, thrilled 
With love's prophetic rapture, she foresaw 
. [304] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABEAHAM LINCOLN: AN ELEGY— [Continued] 
Him garmented with greatness, saw afar 
The future kneel before him. Then a mist 
Blotted the sun and blight fell on her dream, 
And she stood weeping in a lonely land. 

Bred in a low place, lord of little deeds. 
He learned to rule his spirit, and he grew 
Like the young oak with yearning for the sky. 
Yet on his face was sadness, as if grief 
Had chilled his singing childhood, ah, too soon, 
Or love with her heart-summer came too late ! 
So with the world he wrestled for his life 
And laboured long in silence, his gaunt frame 
Knotted with secret agonies; and so 
Struggled through darkness upward till he stood 
Rugged and resolute, a man of men! 

The South was in his blood and kept it warm, 
And on his soul the winds of all the North 
Beat like a storm of eagles at a crag 
And left him granite. Then to his chaste heart 
The virgin West sang with siren's voice 
And to her arms allured him, and he gave 
His deepest love and all his loyal strength. 
Thus with auster'^ devotion he foreswore 
Plenty and pleasure, hewing through the wilds 
Brightening highways, founding the young state 
Upon that rock, the liberty of law. 

[305] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN: AN ELEGY— [Continued] 

He was a man, amid the throng of men — 
A simple man ! And though in him was seen 
A giant wrestler, strong and grapple-armed. 
Mighty in struggle, dauntless, one that loomed 
Invincible in battles of debate — 
Yet all who knew him loved him, for he hid 
The hero with a smile, and seemed instead 
Only a king of kindness, showing thus 
Unto the proud the majesty of man. 
How more than king to be a common man ! 
His life was one humility, and though 
The heights were his, he lingered in the vales, 
Yoked to a lowly service many years. 
Then came the call, the loud, fierce upward call, 
And while the cloudy battle closed around. 
While Blue and Grey commingled in a mist 
Of glory — then from his dare-kindled eyes 
The eagle stared, unquailing, and his look 
Like the resistless lightning flashed and flamed; 
Yea, from his heart as from a scabbard leaped 
The hero like a sword, and with one stroke 
Freed the last slave, and all the sleeping world 
Woke, and with one great voice of wonder cried, 
"This is a Man!" 

He knew what kindest word 
Would quicken hope and hearten the faint cause; 
Homespun his parables from life's rich loom, 
[306] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN: AN ELEGY— [Continued] 

Were logical as l!^ature, and he made 

His gentle wisdom wiser with a jest, 

While humour like the laughing of the dawn 

Gleamed through the cloud that troubled his far eyes. 

Some called him homely who forgot to shine, 

Who, stooped by a vast burden, yet became 

Unto the homeless heart an open home. 

And as he walked through dreary human ways 

The sad, the poor, the lonely and the lost 

Followed his form with long-pursuing love. 

And all that saw him marvelled, for they felt 

That some dear Christ had sw'eetened all the air. 

Then in that towering moment when he cried, 
"There are no boundaries," and as he bade 
Division cease and battle be no more. 
When all the happy, now the nation saved, 
Bugled of triumph, as he breathed his calm 
"Let there be peace," and peace was over all — 
Even then he fell and left us desolate! 

But still he lives, for like a banner of gold 
His conquering name goes marching on to God; 
Who though he set in darkness rose again, 
Yea, like the rising universal sun 
Summed in one flame the dark-divided stars — 
So on this day, above him, where he sleeps, 
Over his grave, united, with one grief, 
Lo, North and South clasp their forgetting hands! 
Leonaed Charles Van Noppen 

[307] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

Fehruarij 12,1917 

LET memory whiten her wall, 
The wall of that corridor grand 
That leads to her innermost hall 

Where lives The Beloved of our land. 



To-day we will throw back the bar, 
That holds him so safely within, 

To answer a call from afar — 

A prayer from the midst of the din 



Where rulers of men have gone wild 
With lust for more temporal power; 

Where dead in the trenches are piled, 

As darker the fierce war-clouds lower; 



Where homes are laid waste far and wide, 
And mothers and daughters outraged; 

Where men like brute devils deride 
The pitiful pleas of the aged. 
[308] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN— t Continued] 

From there comes the call loud and clear; 

The people's deep heart-rending call — 
Great Spirit of Lincoln appear 

"With charity," yes, and "for all !" 

To us in our time of dire need 

Thou cam'st our redeemer and friend; 

We kept thee because of our greed 

When all we were asked was — to lend. 

Such wisdom and justice combined, 

Such patience and tenderness rare, 

The people are groping to find — 

Just groping 'twixt hope and despair. 

A continent calls thee, as one — 

The door of our greed is ajar — 

It needs thy sweet "malice toward none," 
Thy Spirit for its guiding Star! 

They shall not implore us in vain — 

Our impulse to give has not died — 
God speed thee o'er ocean and plain. 

Great Soul of America's pride! 

E. C. Sewaed 



[309] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY, 19I8 

IT was ^'fitting and proper," our Lincoln said, 
That we should pause and remember our dead, 
Our heroes who fought and struggled and bled 
At Gettysburg. 

And on his glad, sad, natal day 
It is fitting and proper that we should stay, 
And on his shrine our flowers lay 
In memory. 

Lincoln! thine anguish and toil and pain. 
The bitter cup which thou didst drain, 
Thy travail of soul shall not be vain. 
Our martyred one. 

The sons of the men who fought with thee, 
And sons of those they fought thou'llst see 
Fight side by side, and the goal shall bo 
World liberty. 

And the pilot who guides our ship of state 
On no uncharted sea need wait; 
Thine hand on his is adequate 
For victory. 

Woodbury Pulsifee 
[310] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY, 19I8 

WHEN" overburdened with its care 
My soul seems yielding to despair, 
I think of him to whom to-day 
All men a golden tribute pay; 

Who in the midst of trials sore 
His burden uncomplaining bore, 
And out of bitterness ran on 
To splendid laurels nobly won; 

And from the thought of him I too 
Gain confidence and courage true, 
And faith sublime that thro' the night 
Mine eyes will find their way to light. 

John Kendeick Bangs 



[311] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN OF PEACE 

WHAT winter holiday is this? 
In Time's great calendar, 
Marked with the rubric of the saints, 

And with a soldier's star, 
Here stands the name of one who lived 

To serve the common weal, 
With humour tender as a prayer 
And honour firm as steel. 



No hundred hundred years can dim 

The radiance of his mirth. 
That set unselfish laughter free 

From all the sons of earth. 
Unswerved through stress and scant success. 

Out of his dreamful youth 
He kept an unperverted faith 

In the almighty truth. 



Born in the fulness of the days. 
Up from the teeming soil. 

By the world-mother reared and schooled 
In reverence and toil, 
[312] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN OF PEACIl— [Continued] 

He stands the test of all life's best 
Through play, defeat, or strain; 

Never a moment was he found 
Unlovable nor vain. 

Fondly we set apart this day, 

And mark this plot of earth 
To be forever hallowed ground 

In honour of his birth, 
Where men may come as to a shrine 

And temple of the good, 
To be made sweet and strong of heart 

In Lincoln's brotherhood. 

Here walked God's earth in modesty 

The shadow that was man, 
A shade of the divine that moved 

Through His mysterious plan. 
So must we fill the larger mould 

Of wisdom, love, and power, 
Fearless, compassionate, contained, 

And masters of the hour, 

As men found faithful to a task 

Eternal, pressing, plain, 
Accounting manhood more than wealth, 

And gladness more than gain; 

[313] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE MAN OF 'PEACE— [Continued] 

Distilling happiness from life, 

As vigour from the air, 
Nor \vresting it with ruthless hands. 

Spoiling our brother's share. 

Here shall our children keep alive 

The passion for the right — 
The cause of justice in the world. 

That was our father's fight. 
For this the fair-haired stripling rode, 

The dauntless veteran died. 
For this we keep the ancient code 

In stubbornness and pride. 

O South, bring all your chivalry; 

And West, give all your heart; 
And East, your old, untarnished dreams 

Of progress and of art! 
Bid waste and war to be no more. 

Bid wanton riot cease; 
At your command give Lincoln's land 

To Paradise — to peace. 

Bliss Cabman 



[314] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



1809— LINCOLN— 1909 

ONE night while Freedom slept, she dreamed she 
died, 

And waked all pale and trembling — in her plight, 
Calling on God to hasten to her side 

Some champion from His regiments of light. 
He scanned the ranks of lieav'n and there espied 

One parented by Poverty and Right — 
A jesting spirit w^ith a heart of tears — 
Who started lonely down the road of years 

Serene and unafraid. When the long night 
Black with the breath of battle, drew to dawn, 
Fading the hosts of Fear in conquered flight. 

It showed him cold and still, his soul withdrawn 
By God's own hand from its rude sheath of clay 
To shine for Liberty in deathless day. 

Leigh Mitchell Hodges 



[315] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN-CHILD 

CLEAEING in the forest, 
In the wild Kentucky forest, 

And the stars, wintry stars strewn above! 

O Night that is the starriest 

Since Earth began to roll — 

For a Soul 

Is born out of love! 

JVIother love, father love, love of Eternal God — 

Stars have pushed aside to let him through — 

Through heaven's sun-down deeps 

One sparkling ray of God 

Strikes the clod — 

(And while an angel-host through wood and clearing 
sweeps ! ) 

Born in the Wild 

The Child- 
Naked, ruddy, new. 

Wakes with the piteous human cry and at the mother- 
heart sleeps. 

To the mother wild berries and honey, 
To the father awe without end, 
To the child a swaddling of flannel — 
And a dawn rolls sharp and sunny 
[316] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LmCOLN-CUILD—[Contmued] 
And the skies of winter bend 
To see the first sweet word penned 
In the godliest human annah 

Frail Mother of the Wilderness — 
How strange the world shines in, 
And the cabin becomes a chapel 
And the babe lies secure — 
Sweet Mother of the Wilderness, 
New worlds for you begin, 
You have tasted of the apple 
That giveth wisdom sure. . . . 

Do you dream, as all Mothers dream, 

That the child at your heart 

Is a marvel apart, 

A frail star-beam 

Unearthly splendid? 

Ah, you are the one mother 

Whose dream shall come true, 

Though another, not you, 

Shall see it ended. 

Soon in the wide wilderness, 

On a branch blown over a creek, 

Up a trail of the wild coon. 

In a lair of the wild bee. 

The rugged boy, by Danger's stress. 

Learnt the speech the wild things speak, 

[317] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LmCOLl^-ClULD— [Continued] 

Learnt the Earth's eternal tune 

Of strife-engendered harmony — 

Went to school where Life itself was master, 

Went to church where Earth was minister — 

And in Danger and Disaster 

Felt his future manhood stir! 

All about him lay the land, 

Eastern cities. Western prairie. 

Wild, immeasurable, grand, 

But he was lost where blossomy boughs make airy 

Bowers in the forest, and the sand 

Makes brook-water a clear mirror that gives back 

Green branches and trunks black 

And clouds across the heavens lightly fanned. 

Yet all the Future dreams, eager to waken. 
Within the woodland soul — 
And the bough of boy has only to be shaken 
That the fruit drop whereby this Earth shall roll 
A little nearer manhood than before. 
Little recks he of war. 

Of national millions waiting on his word — 
Dreams still the Event unstirred 
In the heart of the boy, the little babe of the wild— 
But the years hurry and the tide of the sea 
Of Time flows fast and ebbs, and he, even he, 
Must leave the wilderness, the wood-haunts wild — 
[318] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LlNCOL^-ClllLD— [Continued] 

Soon shall the cyclone of Humanity 
Tearing through Earth suck up this little child 
And whirl him to the top, where he shall be 
Riding the storm-column in the lightning-stroke, 
Calm at the peak, while down below worlds rage. 
And Earth goes out in blood and battle-smoke, 
And leaves him with the sun — an epoch and an age! 

Hushed be our hearts, and veneration - 

Steep us in joy, 

Hushed be our mills, while a saved nation 

Reveres this boy! 

Hushed be our homes, while a holy elation 

Makes the heart mild — 

Each home has a child 

And we worship a race of Lincolns in each that we love! 

N^o, they may not stand above 

The storm and steer the States, 

These little children that are born from us — 

"No, they may no Lincolns prove 

In the grandeur of their fates — 

But Lincolns let them be in the heart and in the soul — 

Even thus 

Shall our Earth again toward God a little swifter, nearer 

roll. 
Even thus 
Shall our children touch the stars where we have only 

glimpsed the Goal. 

[319] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LmCOLN-CBlLD— [Continued] 

Even thus and only thus 

Through the Future's arch-like span 

May they go American ! 

In his spirit shall they grow, 

To his law they shall be bound, 

With his light of God shall glow, 

With his love of Man be crowned! 

Think of the miracle! 

A child so like our child, 

A babe born in the wild, 

A little clod of clay, sweet blossoming and beautiful, 

Earth that is dumb and dead, 

Earth risen in child-shape. 

And suddenly agape 

Are the eyes and lips, and spread 

Is the heart and coiled the brain — 

And lo, tlie Silences are slain — 

In our Wilderness of Silence where we were only two, 

Man and Wife, 

Comes this third and like the voice of God breaks through 

With his life— 

And he answers back our Silence with his babbling, wordy 

strife — 
Born of woman. 
Born of man, 
He is human 
And he can 
[320] 




THE LINCOLN SPRING FHOM WHICH LINCOLN DRANK WHEN A CHILD, 
ON THE LINCOLN FARM AT HODGENSVILLE, KENTUCKY 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LmCOLN-CniLD— [Continued] 

Grow beyond us in the grandeur we began ! 

And none greater than this boy 

Whom this day 

We revere with holy joy, 

And we thank the stars the clay 

In Kentucky took on human shape and spoke, 

In the Wilderness awoke. 

In the woodlands grew a creature of the wild, 

This February child ! 

And lo, as he grew, ugly, gaunt, 

And gnarled his way into a man, 

What wisdom came to feed his want. 

What worlds came near to let him scan — 

And as he fathomed through and through 

Our dark and sorry human scheme, 

He knew what Shakespeare never knew, 

What Dante never dared to dream — 

That Men are one 

Beneath the sun, 

And one in life are equal souls — 

This truth was his. 

And this it is 

That round him such a glory rolls — 

For not alone he knew it as a truth. 

He made it of his blood and of his brain — 

He crowned it on the day when piteous Booth 

[321] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN-CHILD— [Conttmted] 

Sent a whole land to weeping with world-pain — 
When a black cloud blotted the sun 
And men stopped in the streets to sob, 
To think Old Abe was dead — 
Dead, and the day's work still undone. 
Dead, and war's ruining heart athrob, 
And earth with fields of carnage freshly spread — 
Millions died fighting, 
But in this man we mourned 
Those millions, and one other — 
And the States to-day uniting, 
North and South, 
East and West, 
Speak with a people's mouth 
A rhapsody of rest 
To him our beloved best. 
Our big, gaunt, homely brother — 
Our huge Atlantic coast-storm in a shawl. 
Our cyclone in a smile — our President, 
Who knew and loved us all 
With love more eloquent 

Than his own words — with Love that in real deeds was 
spent. 

Shelley's was a world of Love, 
Carlyle's was a world of Work, 
But Lincoln's was a world above 
That of a dreamer or a clerk — 
[322] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN-CHILD— [Conimued] 

Lincoln wed the one to the other — 

Made his a world where love gets into deeds — 

Where man was more than merely brother, 

Where the high Love was meeting human needs! 

And lo, he made this plan 

Memorably American! 

Through all his life this mighty Faith unfurled! 

Oh, let us see, and let us know 

That if our hearts could catch his glow 

A faith like Lincoln's would transform the world! 

Oh, to pour love through deeds — 

To be as Lincoln was! 

That all the land might fill its daily needs 

Glorified by a human Cause! 

Then were America a vast World-Torch 

Flaming a faith across the dying Earth, 

Proclaiming from the Atlantic's rocky porch 

That a New World was struggling at the Birth! 

Ah, is this not the day 

That rolls the Earth back to that mighty hour 

When the sweet babe in the log-cabin lay 

And God was in the room, a Presence and a Power ?- 

When all was sacred — even the father's heart — 

And the stirred Wilderness stood still, 

And roaring flume and shining hill 

Felt the workings of God's Will ? 

[323] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN-CHILD— [Con«in«erf] 

O living God, O Thou who living art, 

And real, and near, draw, as at that babe's birth, 

Into our souls and sanctify our Earth — 

Let down Thy strength that we endure 

Mighty and pure 

As mothers and fathers of our own Lincoln-child — 

Make us more wise, more true, more strong, more mild, 

That we may day by day 

Rear this wild blossom through its soft petals of clay. 

That hour by hour 

We may endow it with more human power 

Than is our own — 

That it may reach the goal 

Our Lincoln long has shown ! — 

O Child — flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone. 

Soul torn from out our Soul ! 

May you be great, and pure, and beautiful — 

A Soul to search this world 

To be a father, brother, comrade, son, 

A toiler powerful, 

A man with strength unfurled, 

A man whose toil is done 

One with God's Law above, 

Work wrought through Love! 

James Oppenheim 



[324] 



XI. MISCELLANIES 



"Grave was his visage, hut no cloud could dull 

The radiance from within that made it beautiful/ 




ABRAHAM LINCOLN AS HE LOOKED IN 1864 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ON A PICTURE OF LINCOLN 

I READ once more this care-worn, patient face, 
And learn anew that sorrow is the dower 
Of him that sinks himself to lift his race 
Into the seat of peace and power. 

How beautiful the homely features grow. 

How soft the light from out the mild, sad eyes, 

The gleam from deeps of grief the soul must know 
To be so great — so kind, so wise! 

John Vance Cheney 



[327] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



HIS FACE 

THEY tell you Lincoln was ungainly, plain? 
To some he seemed so: true. 
Yet in his look was charm to gain 

E'en such as I, who knew 
With how confirmed a will he tried 
To overthrow a cause for which I would have died. 

The sun may shine with naught to shroud 

Its beam, yet show less bright 
Than when from out eclipsing cloud 

It pours its radiant light; 
And Lincoln, seen amid the shows of war 
Clothed in his sober black, was somehow felt the more 

To be a centre and a soul of power — 

An influence benign 
To kindle in a faithless hour 

New trust in the divine. 
Grave was his visage, but no cloud could dull 
The radiance from within that made it beautiful. 

A prisoner, when I saw him first — 

Wounded and sick for home — 
Ilis presence soothed my yearning's thirst 

While yet his lips were dumb ; 

[328] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



HIS FACE— [Continued] 

For such compassion as his countenance wore 

I had not seen nor felt in human face before. 

And when, low-bending o'er his foe, 

He took in his firm hand 
My wasted one, I seemed to know 

We two were of one Land; 
And as my cheek flushed warm with young surprise, 
God's pity looked on me from Lincoln's sorrowing eyes. 

His prisoner I was from then — 

Love makes surrender sure — 
And though I saw him not again, 

Some memories endure, 
And I am glad my untaught worship knew 
His the divinest face I ever looked into ! 

Floeence Eakle Coates 



1829] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE EYES OF LINCOLN 

SAD eyes, that were patient and tender, sad eyes, that 
were steadfast and true, and "warm with the un- 
changing splendour of courage no ills could subdue. 
Eyes dark with the dread of the morrow, and wo for 
the day that was gone, the sleepless companions of sor- 
row, the watehers that witness the dawn. Eyes tired 
from the clamour and goading, and dim from the stress 
of the years, and hallowed by pain and foreboding, and 
strained by repression of tears. Sad eyes that were 
wearied and blighted by visions of sieges and wars, now 
watch o'er a country united from the luminous slopes of 
the stars. 

Walt Mason 



[330] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



A LINCOLN LEGEND 

"The farmers in central Illinois claim that the brown 
thrush did not sing for a year after he died." — From 
ITicolay and Hay's Life of Ahraham Lincoln. 

JUST fifty years ago to-day 
The brown thrush checked its liquid song! How 
could 
It thrill its roundelay when one who loved 
All helpless things lay mute and cold! When hands 
Which oft had raised the fallen fledglings up 
And placed them gently back in their home nest 
Were smitten down — forever stilled! Not for 
A year, the legends say, did throstles sing 
Again. Then o'er the hushed and mourning world 
They poured their carols forth once more — as though 
Rejoicing that the spirit-dawn, for which 
Their comrade hourly prayed, had broken o'er 
The stricken earth. Time's healing touch but more 
Endeared that tender, all-compassionate heart 
Whose deathless fame has now become world wide — 
As universal as the air, as high 
And deeply rooted as the rugged hills. 

Charlotte Beewster JoRDAisr 

[331] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



A BIRD IN LINCOLN'S TOMB 

WHAT name is this ? Art more than voice 
Song-bird thou canst not be! 
Thou seemest neither to rejoice 

ITor mourn, with tones so free ! 



With slow, delaying, pilgrim feet, 
Like one within the vail, 

I pause to rest, and tones more sweet 
Commingle with thy wail! 

Lo! all the choristers of Spring, 

Around this holy spot, 
Tender returning strophes sing, 

For Lincoln unforgot! 



Beside Ohio's curving stream, 

On that death-darkened mom. 

The rush of an appalling dream 
To my young ears was born. 
[832] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



A BIRD IN LINCOLN'S TOMB— [Continued] 

Assassination ! Ingrate word ! 

Millions wept long and sore; 
My little life was sadly stirred — 

Time moved it more and more. 

Oh, priceless boon! I've lived to count 
My country's pulse with mine; 

In love to climb this sacred mount 
That holds this precious shrine! 

What more is grief, or bliss, or care. 
The space left one to breathe? — 

Hands that have touched this granite fair 
No other urn would wreathe. 

The lilacs of that April day 

Drooped when our Martyr fell, 

iWhen his vast land in mourning lay. 
And none its wo could tell. 

Pity the woman's heart that here 
No dew hath left to shed! 

Condole the man who owns no tear 
For this most noble dead! 

We charge you, guard his ashes well! 

From year to year your guard 
The pathos of his death shall tell — 

No more could bay or bard. 

[333] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



A BIRD IN LINCOLN'S TOMB— [Cojitinued] 

Statesmen of his devoted state, 

Where once the Illini 
Numbered their hordes, a people great, 
For progTess doomed to die, 

We of the Commonwealth implore. 
We charge, aye, we command, 

Watch you his rest forevermore, 
So long his fame shall stand! 

Emily Thacheb Bennett 



[334] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



CITIZENSHIP 

CITIZEN I— by birth or grant of court. 
Yet am I citizen? What this estate 
Which gives me right to share in my own rule, 
And all my country's progress help dictate? 

Is it to gain for me and mine alone 

Some stronger hold on chattels that breed power; 

To constitute my property a throne 

That mothers safety in an evil hour ? 

Or is it to enlarge my power to give 

Such as I have of sense and strength, that they 

Who likewise give, may find in me a mate — ■ 

All of us working for a better day 

When justice to each woman, man and child 

Shall challenge poverty and make for peace; 

When Right, where'er assailed, shall hither turn. 

Sure of a righteous nation's swift release ? 

If Lincoln lived, and read this questioning line, 
What would his answer be? Let that be mine! 
Leigh Mitchell Hodges 



[335] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



AMERICA TO EUROPE 

THE air is vibrant as if some cosmic jar 
Had shaken every land where motley millions dwell, 
As if this orb had crossed the path of angry star 
And loosed the noise, the stench, the agonies of hell. 
!N"o mountain summit, nay, no hollow cavern hides 
The heart of man whose fever-tortured throbs 
Clutch not at straws of hope on passion tides 
Where universal hatred stabs and robs. 

Once more with blood the storied rivers thicken, 

Once more rude cannons shame the lowly plough, 

And once again must smaller crowns be stricken 

To clear the way for one who here and now 

Decrees to test imperious will and power. 

Where Caesar fought, where rushed Xapoleon's legions, 

Where Bismarck's stubborn plans hurled conq'ring train, 

Where art was shrined to bless all distant regions, 

There strides some lord on pyramids of slain 

To flaunt triumphant crest for blood-stained hour. 

O, may a voice from overseas be raised 
To plead one thought of slaughter's worth. 
One peaceful thought ere all the world is crazed 
With lust of blood, of power, or heaped-up gold ? 
[336j 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



AMERICA TO EVROFE— [Continued] 

Here valiant Washington once led 

A struggling host to give a nation birth ; 

But, O, before the flame of strife was cold, 

Before the vanquished armies fled, 

His love of home had thrilled the hearts of earth 

And, linked with peace, his name was loved and praised. 

Anon Columbia's breasts a viper nursed, 

Till father's heavy sword smote cherished son; 

Wild furies parched the fields and cursed 

The land, were dismal battles lost or won. 

Ah, yes, 'tis time, a brilliant courage dashed 

When ranks, swift grappling, fell for Grant or Lee, 

And high did valour rise when ironclads crashed 

To crimson-blotch the all-engulfing sea. 

O glorious dawn that bade the war to cease! 

O patient years that healed the gaping scars! 

Above the spears lift up, O waiting stars. 

The victor's fervent prayer: "Let us have peace!" 

If soldier's plea to soldier be in vain. 

Or memory of wars, let one implore 

Whose humble heart knew every mortal pain — 

A manly man, who mighty burdens bore. 

Who held aloft a nation's flick'ring light. 

O Europe, raise a Lincoln for thy need! 

Behold, O kings, a modern prophet's call ! 

[337] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



AMERICA TO EUROVE— [Continued] 

A tender hand where wounds of foemen bleed — 
"Xo malice here," but "charity for all." 
Divinely human! O men, arise and heed! 
"Achieve, as God gives us to see the right." 

Edmond S. Meant 



[338] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN AND DARWIN 

BORN" on the selfsame day, wide seas apart, 
The JSTazarean statesman of the West, 
Divinely sorrowful, divinely blest, 
The travail of two races in his heart; 
And he who stalked shy truth with perfect art, 
Unfearing as the martyrs in his quest, 
A modern prophet of the great unguest, 
A voyager reshaping the world's chart. 

Both freemen in themselves and making free, 
"Not less the one a doer of great deeds 

That he pursued the quiet paths of thought; 
!Nor less the statesman and the warrior wrought 
To disillusion men of olden creeds: 
Emancipators both all time to be. 

KOBEET WhITAKEE 



[339] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



L 



LINCOLN 

INCOLN" ! 'Thou shouldst be living at this hour !" 
Thy reach of vision — prophet thou and seer — 

Thy strong and steadfast wisdom, judgment clear, 
Are needed in this stress, thy old-time power 
The ship of state to save from storms that lower 

And threaten to engulf. Dark reefs loom near ! 

'No 'Vatchful waiting" will avail us here, 
That wind-swept, tossing ship past rocks that tower 
To guide to sunlit waters — calm, serene. 

Oh! for a leader, fearless, strong, and wise, 
Of swift decision, and with insight keen 

To see the dangers; scorn all compromise; 

Tlestore the honour lost, the faith we prize, 
And bring us back the glory that hath been ! 

Kenyon West 



[340] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



A FARMER REMEMBERS LINCOLN 

LINCOLN ?— 
Well, I was in the old Second Maine, 
The first regiment in Washington from the Pine Tree 

State. 
Of course, I didn't get the butt of the clip; 
We was there for guardin' Washington — 
We was all green. 

"I ain't never ben to but one theatre in my life — 

I didn't know how to behave. 

I ain't never ben since. 

I can see as plain as my hat the box where he sat in 

When he was shot. 

I can tell you, sir, there was quite a panic 

When we found our President was in the shape he was in ! 

Never saw a soldier in the world but what liked him. 

"Yes, sir. His looks was kind o' hard to forget. 

He was a spare man, 

An old farmer. 

Everything was all right, you know. 

But he wasn't a smooth-appearin' man at all — 

Not in no ways; 

Thin-faced, long-necked, 

And a swellin' kind of a thick lip like. 

[341] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



A FARMER REMEMBERS LINCOLN— [Con^inwed] 

"And he was a jolly old fellow — always cheerful; 

He wa'n't so high but the boys could talk to him their 

own ways. 
While I was sei-vin' at the Hospital 
He'd come in and say, 'You look nice in here,' 
Praise us up, you know. 
And he'd bend over and talk to the boys — 
And he'd talk so good to 'em — so close — 
That's why I call him a farmer. 
I don't mean that everything about him wa'n't all right, 

you understand. 
It's just — well, I was a farmer — 
And he was my neighbour, anybody's neighbour. 

"I guess even you young folks would 'a' liked him." 

WiTTEE Bynnee 



[342] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 

THEEE thousand miles from sea to sea, 
A great highway is built to span 
The continent where man is free, 
And no man bends the knee to man. 

Broad and straight and smooth and fine. 
It binds the East unto the West, 
And both may pass in God's sunshine, 
And each may learn it is not best. 

But all is good in this fair land, 
Tho' West is West and East is East, 
And mother nature's lavish hand 
Has set no Barmecidal feast. 

No royal coach shall pass this way, 
Nor lord of war in triumph ride; 
No juggernaut of "kultur" prey 
And cast its human wrecks aside. 

But they who use this way shall see. 
In plain and mountain, lake and glen, 
A country fit for liberty — 
For men who love their fellow men. 

[343] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY— [Continued] 

And as they pass may truly sing 

"Land of the Free," since Lincoln taught, 

And to his shrine a tribute bring, 

And thank their God a Lincoln wrought. 

WOODBUEY PULSIFEB 



[344] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN 

OH, not in kaisers or in kings 
The hope of man we seek ! 
Their glitt'ring sceptres, crowns and rings 

Are baubles for the weak; 
But we whose feet are firmly set 

On freedom's broad highway, 
We seek man's hope far deeper yet 

Than kingly pomp or sway — 
We seek it in the people's sweat 

And in their blood, to-day! 

We seek man's hope — nor seek in vain — 

Where dreamers work and wait, 
Where boys in poverty and pain 

Are growing to be great; 
Where boys like Lincoln, poor and plain, 

But strong of hand and heart, 
Grow upward, through the sun and rain. 

To play the hero's part — 
To cleanse the country from the stain 

©f manhood in the mart! 

Oh, let the kaisers and the kings 
At rule and sceptre play! 

[345] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN— t Continued] 

Man's hope is not in crowns and rings, 

And baubles such as they. 
But wheresoever hearts aspire 

To break a Christless ban, 
The name of Lincoln shall inspire 

To higher hope and plan, 
And stir the generous soul's desire 

To live and die for man! 

Denis A. McCaetht 



[346] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S HAT 

THE relic of a past decade, 
It hangs upon the rack, 
An ancient beaver, narrow-brimmed, 

Bell-crowned and rusty-black. 
Though out of fashion fifty falls, 

I pray you do not smile, 
But pass it with a grave* salute, 
For this was Lincoln's tile. 

He left it in a hot campaign, 

Long years and years ago, 
Ere Dixie's broad savannahs heard 

The wild war-bugles blow. 
He hung it up, and rode away 

One morning from the town, 
To wear a fadeless laurel-wreath 

Beneath a martyr's crown. 

The head it decked was never filled 

With one ignoble thought, 
The busy shuttle of his brain 

For truth and freedom wrought. 

[347] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S HAT— [Continued] 

So always when you cast a vote 

Be very certain that 
The candidate you choose is fit 

To wear it — Lincoln's hat. 

Minna Ieving 



[348] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S WAY 

LARGE and loving, rudely tender, with a heart that 
knew no fear, 
Stern as granite for a principle, yet melting at a tear — 
Father Abraham, they called him, this sublime yet simple 

man. 
In whose veins the ardent humanhood of Old Kentucky 
ran. 

Dear to him the cause of Freedom, for the black as for 

the white; 
Dear to him the common soldier who was with him in 

his fight; 
But if one perchance should falter, with his life he must 

atone : 
He was past all human pardon, save the President's 

alone. 

ISTow a father, poor and aged, bowed alike with years 

and wo, 
Crushed by all the pain and sorrow that a parent's heart 

can know. 
Brought, despairing, his petition; he would plead in 

Lincoln's ear; 
And he prayed to heaven for mercy, that through God's 

love, man might hear. 

[349] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S SV AY— [Continued] 

"My two sons, my only children, to the Union's cause I 

gave, 
One lies buried in Virginia in an unkno\^^l soldier's 

grave. 
And the other, last and dearest — for what error I know 

not — 
Is condemned as a deserter, and is sentenced to be shot." 

"My old friend," said Lincoln, kindly, "there has inquiry 
been made. 

And the execution, meanwhile, I have caused to be de- 
layed 

Until further orders from me. This one fact at least, 
I know: 

Your young man can serve us better here above ground 
than below." 

"God be thanked!" the old man, trembling, cried, "and 

blessings on your name ! 
But — but — what if they should execute him when your 

orders came ?" 
"Never fear ! before I order that," said Lincoln, grim 

and sage — 
"Well, your son will beat Methuselah, or die of sheer 

old age!" 

Heney Tyeeell 



[350] 




\BR\lIA:\r I.INCOI.Tf WITIT TTIS SOX TIIO^IAS ("tAd") 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S PEW 

WITHIN the historic church both eye and soul 
Perceived it. 'Twas the pew where Lincoln sat- 
The only Lincoln God hath given to men — 
Olden among the modern seats of prayer, 
Dark like the 'sixties, place and past akin. 
All else has changed, but this remains the same, 
A sanctuary in a sanctuary. 

Where Lincoln prayed! Wliat passion had his soul — 
Mixt faith and anguish melting into prayer 
Upon the burning altar of God's fane, 
A nation's altar even as his own. 

Where Lincoln prayed ! Such worshippers as he 
Make thin ranks down the ages. Wouldst thou know 
His spirit suppliant? Then must thou feel 
War's fiery baptism, taste hate's bitter cup, 
Spend similar sweat of blood vicarious. 
And sound the cry, "If it be possible!'* 
From stricken heart in new Gethsemane. 

Who saw him there are gone, as he is gone ; 
The pew remains, with what God gave him there, 

[351] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN'S PEW— [Continued] 

And all the world through him. So let it be — 
One of the people's shrines. 

Lyman Whitney Allen 

The above poem is inscribed on a tablet on the pew which Lin- 
coln occupied in the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, at 
Washington, D. C. 



[352] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



THE LINCOLN HIGHWAY 

TO save the land, then rent in twain, 
And end the fratricidal strife, 
Th' immortal Lincoln by his death 
But crown'd his sacrificial life. 

To join the land, from shore to shore, 

Each part to other bound, 
And make us each to other kin, 

This Highway will be found. 

C. G, Dickson 



[353] 



THE BOOK or LINCOLN 



HEROES OF YESTERDAY 

GRANT is asleep in his great white tomb, where the 
Hudson tides are deep; 
And Sheridan and Sherman lie on marble beds asleep; 
And all the men that led our men on the bloody fields 

we won — 
They sleep 'neath the marble meet for them that heroes' 

work have done; 
But what of the men the heroes led — of Smith and Rob- 
inson ? 

It was good to die on the firing-line if you died to set 

men free; 
It was good to die when the cannon screamed in the days 

of Sixty-three; 
And wo of a younger, softer race — we look with a brief 

regret 
At the modest mounds where the unknown dead are 

modest and silent yet: 
Smith and Robinson lie so still — and we forget — forget! 

And other Smiths and Robinsons — you count them on 

your hand — 
To-day ^o hobbling up the street, behind the village band, 
[354J 




LINCOLK AND HIS GENERALS WITH THE ARMY OF THE 
POTOMAC AT ANTIETAM 

From a ivar-time photoyraph 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



HEROES OF YESTEUBAY— [Continued] 

To where encamped their comrade-dead in sunken 

bivouac lie; 
The Robinsons and Smiths, you know, who hadn't the 

luck to die. 

Oh, can't you see, and won't you see, and won't you hold 

it true. 
That these old men had ties as dear to them as yours to 

you? 
And won't you quit your secret sneer and open, empty 

praise — 
The inward smile at the selfsame while you wreathe the 

formal bays — 
To pay the simple debt you owe these men of other days ? 

The things they loved they left, and died — or those who 

still endure 
A moment longer stumble on, decrepit, smiled at, poor ! 
Is this the lot that you decree 
To them who risked, to set men free, 
All that was theirs to do or be? 
Sheridan, Sherman, Grant — is this the end of all they 

won? 
Is this their country's payment to Smith and Robinson? 
Reginald Weight Kauffman 



[355] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WE ARE COMING, FATHER ABRAHAM 

WE are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred 
thousand more, 
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New Eng- 
land's shore; 
We leave our ploughs and workshops, our wives and 

children dear. 
With hearts too full for utterance and but a silent tear. 
We dare not look behind us, but steadily before. 
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand 
more. 
We are coming, coming, coming; we are coming, 

coming, coming; 
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred 
thousand more. 

If you look across the hill-tops that meet our Northern 

sky. 
Long moving lines of rising dust your vision may descry ; 
And now the wind an instant tears the cloudy veil aside. 
And floats aloft our spangled flag in glory and in pride. 
And bayonets in the sunlight gleam and bands brave 

music pour — 
We are coming. Father Abraham, three hundred thousand 

more. 
[356] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WE ARE COMING, FATHER ABRARA^l— [Continued] 

We are coming, coming, coming; we are coming, 

coming, coming; 
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred 

thousand more. 

If you look all down our valleys, where the growing 

harvests shine, 
You may see our sturdy farmer boys fast falling into 

line, 
And children at their mothers' knees are pulling at the 

weeds, 
And learning how to reap and sow against their country's 

needs, 
And a farewell group stands weeping at every cottage 

door — 
We are coming. Father Abraham, three hundred thousand 

more. 
We are coming, coming, coniing; we are coming, 

coming, coming; 
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred 

thousand more. 

You have called us and we're coming by Richmond's 
bloody tide, 

To lay us down for freedom's sake our brothers' bones 
beside. 

Or from foul treason's savage grasp to wrench the mur- 
derous blade. 

And in the face of foreign foes its fragments to parade; 

[357] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WE ARE COMING, FATHER ABB-ARA^l—iContinnedi 

Six hundred thousand loyal men and true have gone 

before — 
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thou- 
sand more. 
We are coming, coming, coming; we are coming, 

coming, coming; 
Wo are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred 
thousand more. 

James Sloane Gibbons 



[358] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



LINCOLN LEADS 

ACROSS the page of history, 
As in a looking-glass, 
Or on a moving-picture screen. 
The nation's heroes pass; 
With sword and mace and pen they pace 

In epaulets and braid. 
And some, with ruffles at their wrists, 
In linen fine arrayed. 

But at the long procession's head, 

In loose, ill-fitting clothes, 
A lanky woodsman with an axe 

Upon his shoulder goes; 
In every patriotic heart 

The figure lean and tall 
Is shrined beside the starry flag, 

For Lincoln leads them all. 

Minna Ieving 



[359] 



XII. WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN 



'And the eternal sentinels shine on/ 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



PILLARS OF HERCULES 

Washington and Lincoln 

TWO massive rocks, tradition-flung, 
Gibraltar and the Afric hill, 
Outlast their mythic builder's tongue 

And guard the Eastern gateway still, 
Whence freedom sprang when states were young. 

Two giant men, of crises born, 

The country's sire and sole compeer, 

Loom mighty in the New-W^orld morn: 
The one impregnable, austere; 

The other vibrant, like a horn. 

Behold them as they tower high. 

The landmarks of our civic pride; 

They buttress, nerve and fortify 

The yearning millions at her side. 

Strong bulwarks toward the Western sky. 

Walter F. Longacee 



[363] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN 

TW0 stars alone of primal magnitude, 
Twin beacons in our firmament of fame, 

Shine for all men with benison the same: 
On day's loud labour by the night renewed, 
On templed silences where none intrude, 

On leaders followed by the street's acclaim, 

The solitary student by his flame. 
The watcher in the battle's interlude. 
All ways and works of men they shine upon ; 

And now and then beneath their golden light 
A sudden meteor reddens and is gone ; 

And now and then a star grows strangely bright, 

Drawing all eyes, then dwindles on the night; 
And the eternal sentinels shine on. 

Wendell Phillips Staffoed 



[364] 



AFTERWORD 



'Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you alii 




wl 



&I m t 



j^"" 




NUMBER 51fi TENTH STHEET, WASIIINGTOX, D. C. 

The house to wliicli Lincoln was carried from Ford's Theatre, April l-l, 1865, 
where he died tlie t'ollowinfr morning at 7:22 o'clock. 



AFTERWORD 



LINCOLN 



'T'TT'OVLT) I might rouse the Lincoln in you all, 
FF That which is gendered in the wilderness 

From lonely prairies and God's tenderness. 
Imperial soul, star of a weedy stream. 
Born where the ghosts of buffaloes still dream. 
Whose spirit hoof-beats storm above his grave. 
Above that breast of earth and prairie-fire — 
Fire that freed the slave. 

Nicholas .Vachel Lindsay 



[367] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 

In addition to the personal thanks of the compiler to 
the publishers and the living authors for use of material 
not in public domain, or not elsewhere credited, these ac- 
knowledgements are gratefully made as follows : 

D. Appleton & Co., New York, "The Death of Lincoln," 
by William Cullen Bryant.* 

Barse & Hopkins, New York, "The Eyes of Lincoln," 
by Walt Mason, from "Walt Mason, His Book." 

The Century Co., New York, and Langdon P. Mitchell, 
Philadelphia, "Lincoln," by S. Weir Mitchell. 

W. F. Collins, Montclair, N. J., "The Statue of Lin- 
coln" (Borglum's). 

Louis Bradford Couch, Nyack, N. Y., "The Lincoln 
Boulder." 

William Morris Davis, Cambridge, Mass., "Lincoln's 
Hundredth Birthday." 

C. G. Dickson, Washington, D. C, "The Lincoln High- 
way." 

Dodd, Mead & Co., New York, "Lincoln," by Paul 
Laurence Dunbar. 

Nathan Haskell Dole, Boston, "Lincoln's Birthday," 
from his "The Pilgrims," published by the author. 

Doubleday, Page & Co., Garden City, N. Y., "When 

*By special arrangement. 

[369] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Lilacs Last In the Dooryard Bloom'd," "Hushed Be the 
Camps Today," "This Dust Was Once the Man," "O 
Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Whitman; and "Lin- 
coln, the Man of the People," by Edwin Markham, from 
his "Lincoln, and Other Poems." 

Hermann Hagedorn, New York, "Abraham Lincoln: 
An Ode." 

Harper & Brothers, ISTew York, "Lincoln," by Dana 
Burnet. 

Leigh Mitchell Hodges, Doylestown, Pa., "Abraham 
Lincoln," and "Citizenship." 

Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston and New York, "A 
Hero," "His Face," and "Leaders of Men," by Florence 
Earle Coates ; "The Life-Mask of Abraham Lincoln," and 
"To the Spirit of Abraham Lincoln," by Richard Watson 
Gilder ; "The First American," from "Ode Recited at the 
Harvard Commemoration," July 21, 1865, by James 
Russell Lowell ; "On a Bust of Lincoln," by Clinton Scol- 
lard ; "On a Bronze Medal of Lincoln," by Frank Demp- 
ster Sherman* ; "The Dead President," by Edward Row- 
land Sill; "Abraham Lincoln," and "The Hand of Lin- 
coln," by Edmund Clarence Stedman*; "Gettysburg 
Ode," by Bayard Taylor; "Lincoln's Grave," by Maurice 
Thompson; "Lincoln," by John Townsend Trowbridge; 
"The Emancipation Group," by John Greenleaf Whittier. 

Mitchell Kennerley, New York, "Lincoln," by Flor- 
ence Kiper Frank; "The Man of Peace," by Bliss Car- 
man. 



*By special arrangement. 
[370] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Little, Brown & Co., Boston, "Lincoln," by Denis A. 
McCarthy. 

The Macmillan Co., New York, "On Lincoln's Birth- 
day," by John Kendrick Bangs ; "Lincoln," and "Abraham 
Lincoln Walks at Midnight," by Nicholas Vachel Lind- 
say; "Nancy Hanks Lincoln," by Harriet Monroe. 

Edmond S. Meany, Seattle, "America To Europe," and 
"Walt Whitman's Sprig of Lilac." 

Wilbur D. Nesbit, Chicago, "Lincoln," and "The Man 
Lincoln." 

Woodbury Pulsifer, Washington, D. C, "Lincoln's 
Birthday, 1918." 

G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York, "The Star of San- 
gamon," "The People's King," and "The Nation's 
Prophet," by Lyman Whitney Allen, from his "Abraham 
Lincoln: A Poem." 

Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, "Abraham Lin- 
coln" (Sonnet) and "Abraham Lincoln" (Ode), by 
Richard Henry Stoddard. 

E. C. Seward, Guilford, Conn,, "Lincoln, Feb. 12, 
1917." 

Small, Maynard & Co., Boston, the "Chronology," and 
a paragraph in the Preface, from Brand Whitlock's "Life 
of Abraham Lincoln." 

Wendell Phillips Stafford, Washing-ton, D. C, "Lin- 
coln," "Lincoln, 1865-1915," "One of Our Presidents," 
and "Washington and Lincoln." 

Stewart, Kidd & Co., Cincinnati, "Barnard's Statue of 

[371] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Lincoln," by Lyman Whitney Allen, from "Barnard's Lin- 
coln." 

Frederick A. Stokes Co., New York, "A Farmer Ee- 
members Lincoln," by Witter Bynner, from his "Gren- 
stone Poems." 

Sturgis & Walton Co., New York, "Abraham Lincoln," 
by Margaret Sangster, and "The Lincoln Child," by 
James Oppenheim. 

M. Woolsey Stryker, Rome, N. Y., "Manibus Date Lilia 
Plenis." 

Leonai-d C. Van Noppen, The Hague, "Abraham Lin- 
coln: An Elegy," from his "The Challenge: War Chants 
of the Allies." (London, 1918: Elkin Mathews.) 

H. W. Wack, for the Committee of One Hundred, New- 
ark, N. J., "Lincoln Still Lives," by Charles Mumford, 
from "The Newark Anniversary Poems," published by 
arrangement with the Committee of One Hundred, by 
Laurence J. Gomme, New York. 



MAGAZINES AND NEWSPAPERS 

Atlantic Monthly, Boston, "Lincoln," by John Vance 
Cheney. 

The Century Magazine, New York, "The Cenotaph of 
Lincoln," by James T. Mackay. 

Collier's Weekly, New York, "Lincoln's Way," by 
Henry Tyrrell. 
[372] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



D. A. K. Magazine, Washington, D. C, "The Lincoln 
Highway," by Woodbury Pulsifer. 

The Evening Star, Washington, D. C, "Abraham Lin- 
coln," by Thomas H. Herndon. 

Harpers Weekly, New York, "1809-Lincoln-1909," by 
Leigh Mitchell Hodges ; and "Abraham Lincoln," by Reg- 
inald Wright Kauffman. 

The Independent, New York, "Pillars of Hercules," 
by Walter F. Longacre; and "Lincoln and Darwin," by 
Robert Whitaker. 

The Ladies' Home Journal, Philadelphia, "Their Lin- 
coln," by Stephen W. Meader. 

Leslie's Weekly, New York, "He Leads Us Still," by 
Arthur Guiterman; and "Abraham Lincoln," "Lincoln 
Leads," and "Lincoln's Hat," by Minna Irving. 

Lippincott's, Philadelphia, "Lincoln's Birthday," by 
John Kendrick Bangs. 

New York Tribime, New York, "Lincoln," by Kenyon 
West. 

North American Review, New York, "Banner Mem- 
ories," by Nathan Haskell Dole. 

The Outlook, New York, "On Saint-Gaudens' Statue of 
Lincoln," by Frederick Burton Eddy; and "Lincoln," by 
Jane L. Hardy. 

Overland Monthly, San Francisco, "Abraham Lincoln 
—The Child: The Man: The Memory," by Edmond S. 
Meany. 

Poet Lore, Boston, "The Man of the West," by Fred 
Lewis Pattee, published by the Poet Lore Co. 

[373] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Poetry Review, Boston, "Lincoln," by John Gould 
Fletcher. 

The Saturday Evening Post, Philadelphia, "Heroes of 
Yesterday," by Reginald Wright Kauffman. 

The Seven Ai-ts, New York, "Memories of Whitman 
and Lincoln," by James Oppenheim. 

The Sun, 'New York, "To Borglum's Seated Statue of 
Abraham Lincoln," by Charlotte Brewster Jordan. 

Sunset Magazine, San Francisco, "Lincoln," by Valeria 
Kelsey. 

The Survey, JN'ew York, "A Lincoln Legend," by Char- 
lotte Brewster Jordan. 

The compiler also desires to thank especially Mr. Fred- 
erick W. Ashley and Dr. Woodbury Pulsif er of the Library 
of Congi-ess, and Capt. Earl Munro Jeffrey, formerly of 
the same, for kind and valuable assistance. 



[374] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Selected 
BIOGRAPHIES 

Lives and Speeches of Abraham Lincoln and Hanni- 
bal Hamlin. By William Dean Howells and John 
L. Hayes. (Columbus, Ohio, 1860: Follett, Foster 
& Co.) 

Political Debates Between Hon. Abraham Lincoln 
and Stephen A. Douglas, in the Celebrated Cam- 
paign OF 1858, IN Illinois, etc. (Columbus, Ohio, 
1860: Follett, Foster & Co.) Same, with address at 
Cooper Institute, introduction and notes by Archibald 
L. Bouton. (New York, 1905 : H. Holt & Co.) 

Life of Abraham Lincoln, etc. By Joseph H. Barrett. 
(Cincinnati, 1865: Moore, Wilstach & Baldwin.) 

Abraham Lincoln, His Life and Public Services. By 
Phoebe A. C. Hanaford. (Boston, 1865: B. B. Eus- 
sell & Co.) Same, with additions. (Chicago, ISTew 
York, 1895: The Werner Co.) 

The Life and Public Services of Abraham Lincoln, 
etc. By Henry J. Baymond. (New York, 1865: 
Derby & Miller.) 

The History of Abraham Lincoln and the Over- 
throw OF Slavery. By Isaac N. Ai-nold. (Chi- 
cago, 1866: Clarke i& Co.) 

[375] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Six Months at the White House with Abeaham Lin- 
coln-, ETC. By F. B. Carpenter. (New York, 1866: 
Hurd & Houghton.) 

Life of Abraham Lincoln. By J. G. Holland. 
(Springfield, Mass., 1866: G. Bill.) 

The Life of Abeaham Lincoln, From His Bieth to 
His Inauguration as President. By Ward H. 
Lamon. (Boston, 1872: J. R. Osgood & Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln and the Abolition of Slavery in 
THE United States. By Charles G. Leland. (New 
York, 1879: G. P. Putnam's Sons.) 

Reminiscences of Abraham Lincoln by Distin- 
guished Men of His Time. Edited by Allen Thorn- 
dike Rice. (New York, 1886: North American Pub- 
lishing Co.) Same, New and Revised ed. (New 
York and London, 1909: Harper & Brothers.) 

Herndon's Lincoln, the True Story of a Great Life, 
ETC. By William H. Herndon and Jesse W. Weik. 
(Chicago, 1889: Belford, Clarke & Co.) Same. 
(New York and London, 1916: D. Appleton & Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln, a History of the United States 
From the Birth of Lincoln to the Close of the 
Civil War. By John G. Nicolay and John Hay. 
lOv. 8vo. (New York, 1890: The Century Co.) 

Life on the Circuit with Lincoln, etc. By Henry 
C. Whitney. (Boston, 1892 : Estes & Lauriat.) 

The Children's Life of Abraham Lincoln. By M. 
Louise Putnam. (Chicago, 1892: A. C. McClurg Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. By John T. Morse, Jr. (Boston 
[376] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



and New York, 1893: 1899: 1909: Houghton Mifflin 

Co.) 
Abraham Lincoln. By Charles Carleton Coffin. (New 

York, 1893: Harper & Brothers.) 
The Complete Works of Abraham Lincoln. Ed. by 

John G. Nicolay and John Hay. 12v. 8vo. (New 

York, 1894: 1902: The Century Co.) 
Abraham Lincoln and the Downfall of American 

Slavery. By Noah Brooks. (New York, 1894: 

1896: G. P. Putnam's Sons.) 
Abraham Lincoln, the Man of the People. By Nor- 
man Hapgood. (New York, 1899: The Macmillan 

Co.) 
The Life of Abraham Lincoln. By Ida M. Tarbell. 

(New York, 1900: The Doubleday & McClure Co.) 

New Ed. with new matter. (New York and Lon- 
don, 1917: The Macmillan Co.) 
Lincoln, the Lawyer. By Frederick Trevor Hill. 

(New York, 1906: The Century Co.) 
The Boys' Life of Abraham Lincoln. By H. Nicolay. 

(New York, 1906: The Century Co.) 
Lincoln, Master of Men. A Study of Character. By 

Alonzo Rothschild. (Boston and New York, 1906: 

Houghton Mifflin Co.) 
Lincoln in the Telegraph Office. By David Homer 

Bates. (New York, 1907: The Century Co.) 
Abraham Lincoln. By Henry Bryan Binns. (London, 

1907: J. M. Dent & Co. f New York, 1907: E. P. 

Dutton & Co.) 

[377] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Abraham Lincoln, the Boy and the Man. By James 
Morgan. (New York, 1908: The Macmillan Co.) 

The Lincoln-Douglas Debates of 1858. Vol. I. of 
Lincoln Series; Collections of the Illinois State His- 
torical Library, Vol. III. Edited by Edwin E. 
Sparks. (Springfield, Illinois, 1908.) 

Abraham Lincoln, the People's Leader in the Strug- 
gle FOR ISTational Existence. By George Haven 
Putnam. (N'ew York and London, 1909: G. P. Put- 
nam's Sons.) 

Abraham Lincoln. By Brand Whitlock. (Boston, 1909 : 
1916: Small, Maynard & Co.) 

The Ancestry of Abraham Lincoln. By J. Henry 
Lea and J. K. Hutchinson. (Boston and New York, 
1909: Houghton Mifflin Co.) 

Portrait Life of Lincoln. By Francis Trevelyan Mil- 
ler. (Springfield, Mass., New York and Chicago, 
1910: The Patriot Publishing Co.) 

Personal Traits of Abraham Lincoln. By Helen Nic- 
olay. (New York, 1912 : The Century Co.) 

Lincoln's Own Stories. Collected and ed. by Anthony 
Gross. (New York and London, 1912: Harper & 
Brothers. ) 

Abraham Lincoln. By Kose Strunsky. (London, 1914: 
Methuen & Co., Ltd.) 

Abraham Lincoln, the Lawyer-Statesman. By John 
T. Kichards. (Boston and New York, 1916: Hough- 
ton Mifflin Co.) 

"Honest Abe." A study in integrity based on the early 
[378] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



life of Abraham Lincoln. By Alonzo Rothschild. 

(Boston and New York, 1917: Houghton Mifflin Co.) 
Uncollected Lettees of Abkaham Lincoln. Now 

brought together by Gilbert A. Tracy. (Boston and 

New York, 1917: Houghton Mifflin Co.) 
Lincoln in Illinois. By Octavia Roberts. Hlus. by 

Lester G. Hornby. (Boston and New York, 1918: 

Houghton Mifflin Co.) 
The Voice of Lincoln. By R. M. Wanamaker. (New 

York, 1918: Charles Scribner's Sons.) 



ADDRESSES, ESSAYS, LECTURES, 
ORATIONS AND SERMONS 

Peesident Lincoln. By Edward Everett. Remarks at 
the dinner to Capt. Winslow and the officers of the 
Kearsarge, Nov. 15, 1864. In his Orations and 
Speeches on Various Occasions. (Boston, 1865-72: 
Little, Brown and Co.) 

Life and Death of Abraham Lincoln. A sermon by 
Phillips Brooks, preached in Philadelphia, Apr. 23, 
1865. (Philadelphia, 1865: H. B. Ashmead, printer.) 
Also in his Addresses. (Boston, 1893: C. E. Brown 
& Co. ; New York, 1899 : Frederick A. Stokes Co.) 

The Death of Abeaham Lincoln. A sermon by Henry 
Ward Beecher, preached in Brooklyn, Apr. 23, 1865. 
In his Oration at the Raising of "The Old Elag" at 
Sumter. (Manchester, England, 1865: A. Ireland & 
Co.) 

[379] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Abeaham Lincoln. By Ralph Waldo Emerson. Ee- 
marks at the funeral services held in Concord, April 
19, 1865. In his Complete Works. (Boston, 1883- 
03: 1903-04: Houghton Mifflin Co.) Same. Ed. de 
Luxe. (Philadelphia, 1906: J. D. Morris & Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. Speech of Sir George Grey, deliv- 
ered in the House of Commons, London, May, 1865. 

Eulogy on Abeaham Lincoln. By Josiah Gilbert Hol- 
land, pronounced at the City hall, Springfield, Mass., 
Apr. 19, 1865. 3rd ed. (Springfield, 1865: S. 
Bowles &; Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. Address by Wendell Phillips, in 
Boston, Apr. 23, 1865. In his Speeches, Lectures and 
Letters. (Boston, 1891-92: Lee & Shepard.) 

Eulogy on Abraham Lincoln. By Charles Sumner, de- 
livered in Boston, June 1, 1865. In his Works. 
(Boston, 1874: Lee & Shepard.) 

Abraham Lincoln. A tribute, by George Bancroft. 
(New York, 1908: A. Wessells Co.) [Delivered be- 
fore Congress Feb. 12, 1866, and published same 
year.] 

An Estimate of Abraham Lincoln. By Horace Gree- 
ley. In Greeley on Lincoln and Mr. Greeley's Letters, 
ed. by Joel Benton. (New York, 1893 : The Baker & 
Taylor Co.) [First published in Century Magazine, 
1867.] 

Lincoln and Emancipation. Address by James Abram 
Garfield, delivered in the House of Representatives, 
[380] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Feb. 12, 1878. In his Works. Ed. by Burke A. Hins- 
dale. (Boston, 1882-83 : J. R. Osgood & Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. A paper by Isaac !Newton Arnold, 
read before the Royal Historical Society, London, 
June 16, 1881. (Chicago, 1881: Fergus Printing 
Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. An essay by Carl Schurz. (Boston, 
New York, 1891; 1899 : Houghton Mifflin Co.) Same, 
with Essay on the Portraits of Lincoln, by Truman 
Howe Bartlett. (Boston, New York, 1907: Hough- 
ton Mifflin Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. Address by the Hon. Chauncey 
Mitchell Depew at Burlington, Vt., Feb. 12, 1895. 
In his Orations, Addresses and Speeches. Ed. by 
John Denison Champlin. (New York, 1910: Pri- 
vately printed.) 

Abraham Lincoln. An oration by Henry Watterson, 
delivered before Lincoln Union . . . Auditorium, 
Chicago, Feb. 12, 1895. (Louisville, 1899: Courier- 
Journal Job Printing Co.) Same. In his Compro- 
mises of Life. (New York, 1903: Fox, Duffield & 
Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. A lecture by Robert Green Inger- 
soll. (New York, 1895: C. P. Farrell.) Same. 
(New York, 1907 : John Lane Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln's Birthday. By R. R. Wright. In 
Abraham Lincoln: Tributes from his Associates . . . 
ed. by W. H. Ward. (New York, Boston, 1895: T. 
Y. Crowell & Co.) 

[381] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Abkaham Lincoln". An address by William McKinley, 
before the Marquette club, Chicago, Feb. 12, 1896. 
In Life and Speeches of William McKinley, ed. by 
J. S. Ogilvie. (New York, 1896: J. S. Ogilvie Pub- 
lishing Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. An address by Benjamin Harrison, 
delivered at the Lincoln day banquet of the Marquette 
club, Chicago, Feb. 12, 1898. In his Views of an 
Ex-president. (Indianapolis, 1901: The Bowen-Mer- 
rill Co.) 

Abkaham Lincoln, By James Russell Lowell. In his 
My Study Windows. (Boston, New York, 1899: 
Houghton Mifflin Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. Address by Joseph Hodges Choate, 
delivered before the Edinburgh Philosophical Institu- 
tion Nov. 13, 1900. (London, 1901: Harrison & 
Sons, printers.) Same. (Xew York, 1901: T. Y. 
Crowell & Co.) Same, title in English and Japanese; 
text in Japanese. (Tokio, 1907.) 

Abraham Lincoln. By Frederick Harrison. 7?i Jiis 
George Washington and Other American Addresses. 
(London, New York, 1901: The Macmillan Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln — Wendell Phillips; a Contrast 
AND a Parallel. By Wendell Phillips Stafford. 
(New York, 1903: Republican Club Proceedings.) 

Abraham Lincoln. Address of Hamilton Wright Mabie, 
delivered at the annual Lincoln dinner of the Repub- 
lican club of New York, Feb. 12, 1901. Li ** (See 
at end of this group). 
[382] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



Abraham Lincoln. Address of Theodore Koosevelt, de- 
livered at the Lincoln dinner of the Republican club 
of N'ew York, Feb. 13, 1905. In ** {See at end of 
this group). 

The Greatness of Lincoln. Address of Frederick H. 
Wines, delivered at Lincoln monument, Springfield, 
111., May 30, 1905. (Springfield, 111., 1905.) 

The Portraits of Lincoln. An essay by Truman Howe 
Bartlett. In Abraham Lincoln; a biographical essay, 
by Carl Sehurz. (Boston, New York, 1907: Hough- 
ton, Mifflin Co.) 

Lincoln the Man of Sorrow. By Eugene Wilder 
Chafin. (Chicago, 1908: Lincoln Temperance Press.) 

Abraham Lincoln. Speech of Charles Evans Hughes, 
at the Lincoln dinner of the Republican club of N^ew 
York, Feb. 12, 1908. In ** {See at end of this group). 

Abraham Lincoln. Oration by Alexander Kelly Mc- 
Clure, before the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, 
Feb. 12, 1909. In Minutes of the meeting of the 
Law Association of Philadelphia. (Philadelphia, 
1909: Made at the Sign of the Ivy Leaf.) 

Abraham Lincoln. Address of Booker T. Washington, 
at the Lincoln dinner of the Republican club of New 
York, Feb. 12, 1909. In ** {See at end of this group). 

Abraham Lincoln. Address by Henry Cabot Lodge, de- 
livered before a joint convention of the Senate and 
House of Representatives of the General Court of 
Massachusetts, Feb. 12, 1909. (Boston, 1909 : Wright 
&; Potter Printing Co.) 

[383] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



FfiOM Washington to Lincoln. Address of Henry 
VanDyke, at the Lincoln centenary celebration in 
Paris, France. In * {See at end of this group). 

Lincoln and His Times. Address of Wendell Phillips 
Stafford, delivered before the Lawyers' club of Buf- 
falo, N. Y., Feb. 13, 1909. In his Speeches. (St. 
Johnsbury, Vt., 1913: Arthur F. Stone.) 

Lincoln the Leader, and Lincoln's Genius foe Ex- 
pression. By Richard Watson Gilder. (Boston and 
New York, 1909: Houghton MiiSin Co.) 

Abeaham Lincoln. Speech of Joseph Gurney Cannon 
of Illinois, before the Chamber of Commerce, Pitts- 
burgh, Pa., Feb. 12, 1910. (Washington, 1910 : Govt. 
Print. Off.) 

Abeaham Lincoln a Lovee of Mankind. An essay by 
Eliot Norton. (New York, 1911: Moffat, Yard & Co.) 

Abeaham Lincoln's Cardinal Teaits. A study in eth- 
ics, by Clark Smith Beardslee. (Boston, 1914: R. G. 
Badger.) 

Addeess of President Wilson, accepting the Lincoln 
homestead at Hodgcnsvillc, Ivy., presented to the gov- 
ernment by the Lincoln Farm Association, Sept. 4, 
1916. (Washington, 1916: Govt. Print. Off.) 

Abeaham Lincoln. Three addresses by Melancthon 
Woolsey Stryker. (Kirkland, N. Y., 1917: The Au- 
thor.) 

Peesentation Addeess. By William Howard Taft, on 
the occasion of the dedication of Barnard's statue of 
Lincoln, in the City of Cincinnati, March 31, 1917. 
[384] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



In Barnard's Lincoln. (Cincinnati, 1917: Stewart & 

Kidd Co.) 
*Abeaham Lincoln: the Tribute of a Centuey. Ed. 

by Nathan William MacChesney. (Chicago, 1910: 

A. C. McClurg&Co.) 
**Addeesses. Delivered at the Lincoln dinners of the 

Republican club of the City of New York, in response 

to the toast: Abraham Lincoln. 1887-1909. (New 

York, 1909 : Privately printed for the Republican club 

of the City of New York.) 

The two valuable volumes last listed contain many olber notable 
addresses on and tributes to Abraham Lincoln. 



POETRY 

Poetical Tributes to the Memory op Abraham Lin- 
coln. (Philadelphia, 1865: J. B. Lippincott Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. A poem, by L\Tnan Whitney Allen. 
(New York and London, 1895; 4th ed. 1909: G. P. 
Putnam's Sons.) 

The Memory of Lincoln. Selected by M. A. DeW. 
Howe. (Boston, 1899: Small, Maynard & Co.) 

The Burden Bearer. An epic of Lincoln, by Francis 
Howard Williams. (Philadelphia, 1908: (Jeorge W. 
Jacobs Co.) 

The Praise of Lincoln. Collected and arranged by A. 
Dallas Williams. (Indianapolis, 1911 : The Bobbs- 
Merrill Co.) 

Abraham Lincoln. A poetical interpretation, by George 

[385] 



THE BOOK OF LINCOLN 



William Bell. (Cleveland, 1913: Privately printed 
for the author by The xVrthur H. Clark Co.) 
The Poets' Lincoln. Selected by Osborn H. Oldroyd. 
(Washington, D. C, 1915: The Editor.) 

SHORT STORIES 

Pounded on Incidents in the Life of Lincoln. 
(Suitable for telling or reading aloud) 

He Knew Lincoln. By Ida M. Tarbell. (New York, 
1907: McClure, Phillips & Co.) 

The Peefect Teibute. By Mary Raymond Shipman 
Andrews. (New York, 1907: Charles Scribner's 
Sons.) 

The Toy Shop. By Margarita Spaulding Gerry. (New 
York, 1908: Harper & Brothers.) 

Fathee Abeaham. By Ida M. Tarbell. (New York, 
1909: Moffat, Yard & Co.) 

Lincoln and the Sleeping Sentinel. By L. E. Chit- 
tenden. (New York and London, 1909 : Harper & 
Brothers.) 

The Counsel Assigned. By Mary Raymond Shipman 
Andrews. (New York, 1912: Charles Scribner's 
Sons.) 

Abeaham Lincoln. A story and a play, by Mary Hazel- 
tine Wade. (Boston, 1914: Richard G. Badger.) 

Benefits Foegot. A story of Lincoln and mother love. 
By Honore McCue Wilsie. (New York, 1917: 
Frederick A. Stokes Co.) 
[386] 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



PAGE 



Allen, Lyman Whitney 106, 110, 123, 246, 351 

Anonymous 85, 143 

B., F 202 

Bangs, John Kendrick 293, 303, 311 

Bennett, Emily Thacher 332 

Boyle, Virginia Frazer 284 

Bryant, John H 229 

Bryant, William Cullen 139 

Burnet, Dana 254 

Bynner, Witter 341 

Campadelli, F 197, 198 

Carman, Bliss 312 

Cheney, John Vance 99, 115, 327 

Coates, Florence Earle vii, 103, 328 

Collins, W. F 235 

Couch, Louis Bradford 241 

Davis, William Morris 289 

Dickson, C. G 353 

Dole, Nathan Haskell 287, 294 

Dunbar, Paul Laurence 114 

Eddy, Frederick Burton 226 

Fletcher, John Gould 267 

Frank, Florence Kiper 258 

[387] 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



PAGE 



Gibbons, James Sloane 356 

Gilder, Kichard Watson 232, 266 

Gray, Grace W 184 

Guiterman, Arthur 274 

Hagedorn, Hermann 277 

Hardy, Jane L 101 

Herndon, Thomas H 256 

Hodges, Leigh Mitchell 263, 315, 335 

Irving, Minna 113, 347, 359 

Johnson, Robert Underwood 223 

Jordan, Charlotte Brewster 236, 331 

Kauffman, Reginald Wright 259, 354 

Kelsey, Valeria 100 

L'Alloux, Aiiguste 187 

Leighton, Robert 186 

Lindsay, ^^icholas Vachel 272, 367 

Longacre, Walter F 363 

Lowell, James Russell 91 

Lusine, J. C 190 

McCarthy, Denis A 345 

Mackay, James T 253 

Markham, Edwin 94 

Mason, Walt 330 

Meader, Stephen W 238 

Meany, Edmond S 104, 174, 336 

Mitchell, S. Weir Ill 

Monroe, Harriet 81,255 

Mumford, Charles 239 

:N'esbit, Wilbur D 121, 261 

[388] 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 



PAGE 



Newman, John Philip 65 

Oilier, Edmund 87 

Oppenheim, James 175, 316 

Pattee, Fred Lewis 71 

Piatt, John James 86 

Pulsifer, Woodbury 310, 343 

Robinson, Edwin Arlington 96 

Sangster, Margaret E 117 

Scollard, Clinton 227 

Seward, E. C 308 

Sherman, Frank Dempster 228 

Sill, Edward Rowland 141 

Stafford, Wendell Phillips 237, 249, 260, 364 

Stedman, Edmund Clarence 140, 243 

Stoddard, Richard Henry 124, 144 

Stryker, M. Woolsey 102 

Taylor, Bayard 127 

Taylor, Tom 153 

Thompson, Maurice 205 

Thouzery, Paul 192 

Trowbridge, John Townsend 240 

Tyrrell, Henry 110, 349 

Van !N^oppen, Leonard Charles 304 

West, Kenyon 340 

Whitaker, Robert 112, 339 

Whitman, Walt 158, 160, 161, 162 

"^Tiittier, John Greenleaf 233 



[389] 



INDEX OF TITLES 

PAGE 

A Abraham Lincoln Thouzery 192 

A Bird in Lincoln's Tomb Bennett 332 

A Parmer Remembers Lincoln . . . Bynner 341 

A Hero Coafes 103 

A Lincoln Legend Jordan 331 

Abraham Lincoln Bryant, J. H. ... 229 

Abraham Lincoln Cheney 99 

Abraham Lincoln Gray 184 

Abraham Lincoln Hemdon 256 

Abraham Lincoln Hodges 263 

Abraham Lincoln Irving 113 

Abraham Lincoln Kaujfman 259 

Abraham Lincoln Leighton 186 

Abraham Lincoln Meany 104 

Abraham Lincoln Sangsier 117 

Abraham Lincoln Stedman 140 

Abraham Lincoln Stoddard (Ode) 144 

Abraham Lincoln Stoddard (Sonnet) 124 

Abraham Lincoln Taylor, Tom 153 

Abraham Lincoln Van Noppen .... 304 

Abraham Lincoln Whitaker 112 

Abraham Lincoln, 1809-1909 Boyle 284 

[390J 



INDEX OF TITLES 



Abraham Lincoln, ou le Triomphe 

de I'Union Americaine Campadelli 198 

Abraham Lincoln Walks at Mid- 
night Lindsay 272 

Abraham Lincoln's Place in His- 
tory Newman 65 

America to Europe Meany 336 

Banner Memories Dole 294 

Barnard's Statue of Lincoln Allen 246 

Citizenship Hodges 335 

Gettysburg Ode Taylor , Bayard . . 127 

He Leads Us Still Guiterman 274 

Heroes of Yesterday Kaujfman 354 

His Face Coates 328 

Hushed Be the Camps To-day. . . WhitiJian 160 

In Token of Kespect B., F 202 

Leaders of Men Coates vii 

Lincoln Anonymous ..... 143 

Lincoln Burnet 254 

Lincoln Cheney 115 

Lincoln Dunbar 114 

Lincoln Fletcher 267 

Lincoln Frank 258 

Lincoln Hardy 101 

Lincoln Kelsey 100 

Lincoln Lindsay 367 

Lincoln McCarthy 345 

Lincoln Mitchell Ill 

Lincoln JMonroe 255 

[391] 



INDEX OF TITLES 



FACE 

Lincoln Nesbit 121 

Lincoln Seward 308 

Lincoln Stafford 260 

Lincoln Trowbridge 240 

Lincoln Tyrrell 110 

Lincoln West 340 

Lincoln: An Ode Hagedom 277 

Lincoln, 1809-1909 Hodges 315 

Lincoln, 1865-1915 Stafford 249 

Lincoln and Darwin Whitaker 339 

Lincoln Leads Irving 359 

Lincoln Still Lives Mumford 239 

Lincoln, the Man of the People . Marhham 94 

Lincoln's Birthday Bangs 293 

Lincoln's Birthday Dole 287 

Lincoln's Birthday, 1918 Bangs 311 

Lincoln's Birthday, 1918 Pulsifer 310 

Lincoln's Grave Thompson 205 

Lincoln's Hat Irving 347 

Lincoln's Hundredth Birthday . .Davis 289 

Lincoln's Pew Allen 351 

Lincoln's Way Tyrrell 349 

"Manibus Date Lilia Plenis" Stryher 102 

Memories of Whitman and Lin- 
coln Oppenheini 175 

Nancy Hanks Lincoln Monroe 81 

O Captain ! My Captain ! Whitman 158 

On a Bronze Medal of Lincoln. . .Sherman 228 

On a Bust of Lincoln Scollard 227 

[392] 



INDEX OF TITLES 



On a Picture of Lincoln Cheney ......... 327 

On Lincoln's Birthday Bangs 303 

On Saint-Gaudens' Statue of Lin- 
coln Eddy 226 

''One of Our Presidents" Stafford 237 

Pillars of Hercules Longacre 363 

Saint-Gaudens' Lincoln Johnson 223 

Such and So Gifted, Lincoln Piatt 86 

The Cenotaph of Lincoln MacTcay 253 

The Dead President SUl 141 

The Death of Lincoln Bryant, W. C. ... 139 

The Emancipation Group Whittier 233 

The Eyes of Lincoln Mason 330 

The First American Lowell 91 

The Hand of Lincoln Stedman 243 

The Life-Mask of Abraham Lin- 
coln Gilder 232 

The Lincoln Boulder Couch 241 

The Lincoln Child Oppenheim 316 

The Lincoln Highway Dickson 353 

The Lincoln Highway Pulsifer 343 

The Lincoln Statue (Borglum, 

sculptor) Collins 235 

The Man Lincoln Neshit 261 

The Man of Peace Carman 312 

The Man of the West Pattee 71 

The Master Eohinson 96 

The Nation's Prophet illen 123 

The People's King Allen 119 

[393] 



INDEX OF TITLES 



PAGE 

The Star of Sangamon Allen 106 

Their Lincoln Header 238 

This Dust Was Once the Man .... Whitman 161 

To Borglum's Seated Statue of 

Abraham Lincoln Jordan 236 

To President Lincoln Anonymous 85 

To President Lincoln, Jan. 1, 

1863 Oilier 87 

To the Memory of Mr. Abraham 
Lincoln, President of the Re- 
public of the United States of 
America L'Alloux 187 

To the Spirit of Abraham Lin- 
coln Gilder 266 

Un Eameau d'Immortelle Lusine 190 

Walt Whitman's Sprig of Lilac. .Meany 174 

Washington and Lincoln Stafford 364 

We Are Coming, Father Abra- 
ham Gibho7is 356 

When Lilacs Last in the Door- 
yard Bloom'd Whitman 162 



[394] 



INDEX or FIRST LINES 



PAGE 



A day of joy, a holiday 303 

A flying word from here and there 9G 

A little group of merry children played 226 

A man who drew his strength from all 235 

A Nation called through the gloom 106 

A Nation — nor one only — mourns thy loss 18-i 

A sacred day is this 293 

Across the page of history 359 

After the eyes that looked, the lips that spake 127 

Alone upon the broad, low bench he sits 236 

Amidst thy sacred effigies 233 

And, lo! leading a blessed host comes one 255 

And so they buried Lincoln? Strange and vain. . . . 253 

As back we look across the ages 287 

As by the fire, a knot of pine for light 104 

Born on the selfsame day, wide seas apart 339 

Chained by stern duty to the rock of state Ill 

Child of the boundless prairie, son of the virgin soil 117 

Children loved him long ago 238 

Citizen I — by birth or grant of court 335 

Clearing in the forest 316 

Dare we despair ? Through all the nights and days. . 274 

Fate struck the hour 101 

"Forgive them for they know not what they do" .... 140 

[395] 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



PAGE 



From humble parentage and low degree 202 

Grant is asleep in his great white tomb 354 

Greatheart, so lowly born, so rudely bred 102 

Hail, Lincoln, to thy spirit, upon this day 304 

He sang of joy; whate'er he knew of sadness 103 

He sits there on the low, rude, backless bench 237 

Heroic soul, in homely garb half hid 240 

His people called and forth he came 99 

His was the woodsman's rugged frame 113 

Hurt was the nation with a mighty wound 114 

Hushed be the camps to-day 160 

I read once more this care-worn, patient face 327 

I think he is not dead — I think his face 254 

I wept by Lincoln's pall when children's tears 223 

It is portentous, and a thing of state 272 

It was "fitting and proper," our Lincoln said 310 

Just fifty years ago today 331 

Large and loving, rudely tender, with a heart 349 

Le monde gemissait de cette luttc immense 198 

Let memory whiten her wall 308 

Let silence sink upon the hills and vales 277 

Life may be given in many ways 91 

Like a gaunt, scraggly pine 267 

Lilacs shall bloom for Walt Whitman 175 

Lincoln arose! the masterful great man 110 

Lincoln, grand citoyen, fils de la liberte 190 

Lincoln, that with thy steadfast truth the sand 87 

Lincoln ! "Thou shouldst be living at this hour !".... 340 

Lincoln ? Well, I was in the old Second Maine 341 

[396] 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 

PAGE 

Lincoln ! Wlien men would name a man 143 

Look on this cast and know the hand 243 

Man's saviours are men's martyrs — even thus 259 

May one who fought in honour for the South 205 

Men call him gi-eat, where once of old 256 

No trumpet blared the word that he was born 284 

ISTot as the great who grow more gTcat 261 

Not as when some gi'eat Captain falls 144 

Not oft such marvel the years reveal 119 

Not one of all earth's wise and good 229 

O Captain ! my Captain, our fearful trip is done. . . . 158 

O Mighty Boulder, wrought by God's own hand 241 

O thou that on that April day 249 

Oh, not in kaisers or in kings 345 

Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare 139 

Qnce more, O heart, caress this humble bush 174 

'One night while Freedom slept she dreamed she died 315 

One time I touched, with reverence, the cast 263 

Oui, ce n'est que trop vrai, la fatale nouvelle 192 

Out of the West a Man 71 

Prairie child, brief as dew 81 

Proudest of all earth's thrones 85 

Sad eyes that were patient and tender 330 

Say — if men ask for him — he has gone home 260 

Shade of our greatest, O look down to-day 266 

"Sic semper tyrannis!" the assassin cried 186 

Stern be the pilot in the dreadful hour 86 

The air is vibrant as if some cosmic jar 336 

The clay a^ain has found a dowered hand 246 

[307] 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



PAGE 



The hour was come, and with it rose the man 123 

The lone ship plunges on her trackless way 294 

The relic of a past decade 347 

The works of Satan fill the earth with pain 187 

There is no name in all our country's story 112 

They tell you Lincoln was ungainly, plain 328 

This bronze doth keep the very form and mould 232 

This bronze our Lincoln's noble head doth bear 228 

This dust was once the man 161 

This man whose homely face you look upon 124 

This mask of bronze cannot conceal his heart 239 

This was a man of mighty mould 227 

Three thousand miles from sea to sea 343 

To save the land then rent in twain 353 

Two massive rocks, tradition flung 363 

Two stars alone of primal magnitude 364 

We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thou- 
sand more 356 

"We mark the lowly place where he was born 121 

We name a day and thus commemorate 289 

Were there no crowns on earth 141 

What answer shall we make to them that seek 258 

What name is this ? Art more than voice 332 

AYhat winter holiday is this 312 

When I remember how he dauntless stood 100 

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd 162 

Wlien overburdened with its care 311 

When the Norn-]\Iother saw the Whirlwind hour .... 94 

When they are dead we heap the laurels high vii 

[398] 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES 



PAGE 



Within the historic church both eye and soul 351 

Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all 367 

Yon red orb, in fame's azure hung 115 

You lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln's bier 153 



[309] 



mi9 8 






.^> 









> 






^^-■^, 



o V 



0^ 






'^<^<'^' 
"<"% 



,X^' 



\ ^:^^^^^^ . '^ -^ 



.^^..; 



.\/^ 






^0' 









€' 


-i ' . , ■' 






■' 




^° 






. ' 






^ • 


••\^''* 


■^^r. 
c 



4 Q^ 



^°-^^, 






^x. i 









^"^ %. 






mw: 



^ %> 



^ 









^"«^ 






A 



i: 






.^^"^. 












■^^0^ 






r'^-'.o 



.'i 










LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



I II 

012 025 768 7 






